


Glass of Time

by Emerial



Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: Controversial, F/M, Ibcon, OCs - Freeform, Promise of Reunion, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 97,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerial/pseuds/Emerial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story after.</p><p>Life after the gallery was more bittersweet than Garry had expected. He needed Ib, as she need him. She was contented, he was not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Glass of Time

**Author's Note:**

> CONTAINS SEX AND IBCON, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
> 
> Nothing will happen yet though. :P

**Sand...**

_Don't stop falling..._  
Please stop spilling...

 _I want to hurry and get closer...  
_ I don't want the distance to grow...

* * *

_Her feelings nailed him down. His love chained her to him._

_His want and her want entwined yet never truly one._

_The knotted thread of fate weaved a flawed fabric._

_**Take any hand you want.** _

"Ib! What's wrong? Come on!" A pang of worry jolted at his heart when he realized his little friend's attention was elsewhere. "Ib! Hey, what are you doing? Hurry up and come over!"

She looked at him, then at the woman in front of her.

"Ib! How many times have I told you?" Her mother chided harshly. "Don't go following strangers!"

"Hey, it's not scary, okay?" He urged, beckoning her to come close. "You'll be fine."

She was confused. Why would her mother be here? The woman looked very mad, too.

"Ib, listen to your mother!" The woman took a step forward, displeasure was burning in her eyes as she held out her hand. "Don't go with some stranger. Do you never want to see your mother and father again?"

"Ib, I'll pull you over!" He urged, seemingly unaware of the older woman's presence. The man reached out to her, his countenance full of anxiety.

She started to panic, looking at both familiar faces. She wanted to go home, to where her mother and father were. That was why she had traversed this twisted gallery with him, to get out together. But, if her parents were here. What was the point?

Her mother took another step towards her, reaching at her. There was something off about this woman in front of her. It felt wrong. But it was her mother...

"Come with me..."

"Grab my hand..."

"Ib!"

She flinched away from the woman's hand, her arm stretched for him, fingers touching his palm. He smiled in relief, instantly encasing her small hand. "Alright." He breathed out, squeezing her against him.

_His rusted tin soul brought taint to her glass heart._

_He wanted to turn back, yet she wanted to go on._

_The mended red string became shackles._

"Garry!" She tackled him from behind, hugging his waist and burying her face into his back. "Garry... Garry." She snuggled.

He smiled down at her, then averted his gaze.

"Can I stay over tonight?" The little girl pleaded cutely, looking up at him. "Please? Ma and Pa are going out tonight."

He was torn. What should he do? He didn't want to deny her of anything, but then...

"Please," her gaze casted downwards in a soft dejected frown. "I don't feel good with the paintings at home." She tightened her arms around him to calm the ugly churns in her stomach and blur the thoughts of malevolent unknowns beyond the frame.

He shouldn't have, but he did. He phoned her parents, letting them know that she would like to stay over. She showered and wore his baggy shirt. There was something wrong about him, severely wrong.

"Garry..." She whimpered underneath him, confused, disorientated, tearful.

He made a motion to touch her cheek, and she jerked away, quivering. His insides turned with disgust, but his mind barely noticed it. She was so lovely.

_**Why do you run from the hand you took?** _

_If only spilled sand could fall back._

_If only broken glass could mend._

_Transparent thread, invisible string and elusive fate._

_An hourglass shall reveal all._

 

**Glass of Time**


	2. Cherished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just one of their usual meetings... and the cogwheels were set into motion.

**Cherished**

_"It's a promise."_

_It's a promise, right? So..._

* * *

Two years had passed since then, since the events of the gallery, since he met Ib. It was the most curious meeting, and the most dear.

He looked blankly outside the window of his favourite café, hand stirring his half-empty cup of coffee. It was a beautiful day, late in the weekend afternoon. People walked past the shop in a relaxed manner, some alone, some with company. Dried leaves occasionally fell in a sparse shower, leaving their trees naked. It would soon be winter.

The air inside the shop was cool from the AC, imbued with a languid smell of coffee and confectionary. It made one feel lazy, peaceful and got one reminiscing.

It had been some time since his first greeting to her parents. He still remembered how accomplished he'd felt when he'd finally gained their acceptance. The woman had been very welcoming, the man... not so much, but he'd soon yielded to Ib's adamance.

Garry stifled a chuckle. Ib was strong and very willful when she needed to be.

He lowered his gaze to the windowsill beside his table, eyes settling on the small decorative hourglass placed there. It was a year ago that he'd started to take an interest in the glass ornament. He had one back at his apartment, a little bigger than this one in front of him.

Garry watched absentmindedly as the string of smooth sand quickly accumulated into a red mount inside the crystal clear glass. It was only moments later that the sand was all collected in the lower half. Why must it be in such a rush to finish the cycle? He brought out his hand and turned the glass bottle upside down, allowing the sand to flow once again.

**_Such a hurry..._ **

A small jingling sound brought his attention to the opened café door. A petite familiar figure with a chocolate brown fall emerged from the threshold, and burgundy gaze searched the interior. She was wearing a white dress with black hem, his gift for her tenth birthday. A small smile crept onto the corners of his mouth as he watched her. As soon as the little girl spotted his lavender mop, a flash of recognition swept past her face and she pattered towards him with a worry-filled expression. This dimmed his smile. For a moment, he wondered what was wrong.

"Garry, sorry I'm late." She apologized, seating herself from him. "Did you wait long?"

"Ah, it's fine. It's fine." He replied, his smile returning. "I was only enjoying my coffee, dear. And I have a book to keep me busy." He gestured to the opened book on his side of the table.

After they had found each other, they often hung out. He and Ib most usually met up here, where they had first fulfilled their promise to eat macaroons. Their macaroon outings had long since become a sort of routine.

Although it was a strange sight, a child and an adult hanging out together, he didn't care. No one would ever be able to understand. The short period they spent together had become important, very important to him. They were like each other's remedy for the residue of all the horror of the gallery. It was like a confirmation of the other's presence, an assurance that they had both made it out. He slept better if he could see her in the day, and she confessed to feel the same.

Right now, the nightmares had subsided. They still intruded his sleep from time to time, just not as bad as the first few months. The paintings, the sculptures... Mary... He had been able to leave them all as just a bad memory in a corner of his mind, because Ib was there.

Ib was precious.

A friend, a sister. Someone he held very dear.

"What is the book about?" Ib questioned as she received the glass of juice from a waitress, nodding a thank you at the older girl.

"Hmm? ... One macaroon serving please, Lucy." He told the waitress as she turned to leave before giving Ib his full attention. "The book? It's a tragedy."

"Tragedy? I don't like tragedies." She gave a small frown.

Ib had changed. She spoke more, expressed herself more. Although she was only open to him, it was only a matter of time before that would be applied to any of her acquaintances. She was growing. Already, she'd entered middle school. She would meet new people and her horizon would broaden. What then?

"Well," Garry smiled, closing the book after placing the bookmark between the pages. "When you grow up, you'll learn to appreciate bittersweet things. They're what make a story beautiful."

Ib took a sip at her glass, then tilted her head. "Happy endings are nicer."

He chuckled softly, reaching over the table to pat her head. "You're still a kid, sweetheart."

She appeared sulky, quietly letting him finish his patting.

**_You're still a kid ... so ... don't grow up so fast._ **

He crinkled his eyes in another smile, picking up his cup of coffee. "I'll lend you some books tomorrow. I'm sure they'll help you learn new words."

"Okay." Ib said in a small voice.

"So, how was school this week?" He asked. The answer was a small clatter as Ib clumsily placed her glass down on the table. Garry did not miss her jumpy reaction. "Hmm? What is it?"

Ib darted her eyes around the place, seemingly flustered. Somehow, Garry had a bad feeling about this, but he brushed it aside, patiently waiting until she would decide to speak. He would never push her, knowing it would only serve to unnerve her.

"Y-you see," she started, fidgeting in her seat and knitting her fingers together under the table. "I told you about how the kids in school make fun of my eyes. Well, there's this boy-"

"Yes, those ignorant brats." Garry hissed, anger boiling inside of him. Ib had never had much friends because all the kids her age ostracised her. How in the world they could shun such a sweet girl, he would never understand. What was so wrong about those beautiful red orbs? "Are they bullying you again? Who are they? Tell me and I'll teach them a lesson they'll never forget!"

"No, that's not it." Ib shook her head profusely. "I-I..."

"Hmm? What was that?" He furrowed his brows, leaning in to hear her better. She pressed her lips together before whispering to him.

.

"Whaaaaaattt!" He exclaimed loudly, mouth hanging open. "You like him?"

"Shhh, Garry!" Ib hastily shushed him in a soft voice, placing a finger in front of her lips; her face flushing beat-red.

"A-ah, I'm sorry." Garry slap a hand to his mouth. "Sorry, Lucy." He turned to apologize to the glaring waitress, then look back at his little friend. She avoided his eyes bashfully, hands playing with the hem of her dress. It didn't look like she was going to speak, so he took the initiative.

"So... You were saying you liked him?" He nervously took a sip of his coffee. "How come?"

She lifted her gaze to him, still keeping her head slightly downward. He smiled encouragingly at her.

"... I don't really know if I like him or not." She started hesitantly, eyes searching the table, probably looking for something to give her attention to and alleviate her embarrassment. Finally, she opted to pick up a piece of macaroon and nibble at it.

Garry folded his arms on the table, leaning in closer. "Well, this boy, why don't you tell me about him?"

Ib continued to squirm, her head sinking between her small shoulders. "... You see, he just transferred into my class recently. He's really nice. He doesn't make fun of my eyes and even told me to be proud of them. Because they're unique."

"Mhmm." Garry put a hand to the side of his face and supported his chin. Now, that boy was quite something. Some big words he had. "And you think you like him because?"

"W-well," She stuttered, fingers twiddling. "I get nervous in front of him."

**_What is this?_ **

He had never seen her so worked up about something before. She was always such a composed, graceful little girl.

The little girl hid her burning face behind her hands, mumbling out the words. "My heart wouldn't calm down, I can't really stay myself..."

**_Something is strange..._ **

"Say, Ib dear." Garry said, taking a big gulp of his coffee to sooth his somehow parched throat. "Why are you so confused? It's simple, really. How do you feel when he's near?"

**_You're still just a kid..._ **

Her delicate set of eyebrows twisted in confusion. "... How I feel? I just-"

"Say it simply, Ib." He set the empty cup down and smiled at her. "Do you hate it? Like it? Do you feel happy when the boy's talking to you?"

"I-I see." Ib pressed her lips together in deep thinking. She ran her hands though her hair, then brought her chocolate locks up to hide her face sheepishly. "H-happy, I guess."

"I see." He smiled, nodding.

**_Just a kid?_ **


	3. Turbulence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thinking of her, of himself, of them... he could feel the darkness tainting his mind.

**Turbulence**

_"H-happy, I guess."_

Cold water ran down his hand, bringing his attention back to the running water tap. He was getting a glass of water for himself, but had doze off and let the glass overflow. Garry hurriedly turned the tap off with a sigh, pouring some of the water away into the sink. He used his dry hand to hold the glass and gulped down the content while shaking the water off of his other hand.

_"Eh? You don't play with other kids?" He had once asked her some time ago._

_"I don't have any friends." Ib replied normally._

_"... Why don't you try making some?" He suggested, slightly taken aback by how easily she'd said it. He couldn't imagine a life without friends. He had many, even if not everyone was real._

_"I don't need any." She'd shaken her head. "I have you."_

Ib was surely changing. Without realizing it herself, she was starting to yearn for other connections. It was a nice improvement for her social life, he should be glad, but somehow, all he felt was irritation.

"What is this?" He exhaled.

Replacing the glass back into the wooden cupboard, he stabbed his fingers though his hair and walked back to the living room.

Shiny wooden floor, thick walls, modern interior. He lived in a small, expensive apartment, comfortably furnished with everything that he might need. The apartment was, of course, not his, but given to him by his benefactor a year ago. Sometimes, he would dwell on about whether or not his decision to accept the man's offer had been a right one. It felt so constricted and restraint to live on someone else's property. Many times, he'd been tempted to leave; however, when he thought about letting little Ib visit him in the slum he'd lived in before, staying here wasn't an option anymore.

Garry gave a sigh at his luxurious surrounding and flopped down onto the black leather sofa, picking up his unfinished assignment left on the glass table. Going for fashion had severely limited his future career choices, but he didn't care. He loved fashion, and he intended to be the best. He would prove to his family he could live just fine without having to succeed their business.

He leaned back and brought his long legs up to set the sketchbook against them. This was proving a bit of discomfort, but Garry didn't want to work in his study tonight. He just wanted a change of scenery. What annoyed him the most though, was the fan he had on. The machine kept blowing at the pages of his assignment. With a grunt, he pinned the edge of the pages down with one hand and continued with the messy drafts on the paper, using the pencil to make purposeful lines that soon became aimless. He couldn't seem to concentrate, his mind kept wandering about and it frustrated him greatly.

It was too quiet for comfort.

This apartment felt so dead, he felt so alone. He just wished there was someone here to give him some company, particularly Ib. Garry was never good with children, but he was an expert with Ib. He could handle her pretty well... She handled him well, too. He was generally a nice guy, but in no way a saint. However, when he was with her, he found himself wanting to be one. He wanted to be the best role model figure for her. She brought out the best in him.

_"I like him."_

His little Ib was growing up, already getting her first crush now. He wondered if that was too fast. Garry didn't remember having a crush until he'd turned fifteen.

Did she have to mature so soon? He felt so lost.

_Snap._

Garry blinked out of his reverie as he felt the lead of his pencil snapping. He looked at the sketchbook on his lap and shrieked. "Nooo! What happened?" He dropped the pencil and picked his assignment up, checking the damage. What had once been his beautiful design was now an unidentifiable collection of intense graphite strokes. There were several torn scratches amidst the black patch, telltale of his rough handling.

For a few seconds afterwards, he kept staring at what had become of his assignment, shaking from exhalation. A curse was ready at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be released. However, it never got out as he had swallowed it back in. It was a habit from being around Ib. He never wanted her to hear anything bad, especially not from him.

"... There's no salvaging this, I guess." He muttered, hanging his head in a sigh.

Garry took one last lingering look at his creation then tore the page off and scrunched it up. He threw the ball of paper to aside and turned to a new page. However, he couldn't continue working because his mechanical pencil was now nowhere to be found. Biting back another curse, he searched around for it, but ended up dropping all the materials he'd left inside the sketchbook.

Nothing was going right for him.

He grumbled, setting the sketchbook down and began picking up the pile of paper strewn across the floor. Just then, the phone rang.

Garry let out an exasperated sighed, quickly throwing everything onto the table and strode up to the phone on the shelf in the corner not too far away. Noting the caller's ID, he picked the phone up to answer. "Hello, Garret here."

"Good evening, Mr. Wolfe, I'm sorry for bothering you so late in the day." A feminine voice said coolly. It was his benefactor's secretary. "Are you busy at the moment?"

"No, nothing that needs urgent tending to." He answered, reducing his effeminate speaking habit to the minimum. He knew when not to act out of normalcy. "What is the matter?"

"Yes, well, I just want to know your schedule this weekend. Leonard intends to pay you a visit and wouldn't want to disturb your plans."

"Ah, I see. He'll be welcomed." Garry's lips stretched into an empty smile as he shifted on his legs. "Tomorrow would be fine. I don't have anything planned."

There was a swift silence on the other side before the woman spoke again. "Alright, if you are free, would you mind meeting up at the coffeehouse on Oak street?"

"I don't mind." He replied, faking high spirit. "What time shall it be?"

"Seventeen hundred would be nice."

"Alright! I'll be there." He leaned against the wall stifling a sigh. "Tell Mr. Garland my thanks for his generosity."

"Tell that to him tomorrow." The older woman said. "One more thing, he won't say a word about it, but he is pleased about your results. Keep it up."

"I will, thank you, miss."

**_Pressure..._ **

Garry placed the phone back, the prior smile quickly faded from his face. Maybe he really shouldn't have accepted the Garlands' help.

The phone went off again, and he glared at the innocent machine as though he could shut it off by doing so. Without checking who it was, he yanked the phone from its cradle and grated, "Yes?" His tone was harsher than he'd expected.

Soft breathing sound could be heard before a small voice spoke up. "It's me, Garry."

It was Ib.

"E-eh? Oh, Ib?" He barely kept himself from stuttering. "What's up, sweetheart?"

"... Sorry Garry, did I wake you?" She asked after a short pause. "I'll hang up so you can-"

"No, no, I wasn't asleep. Why would you think that?" He answered hastily, standing up straight.

"Well, you sounded ... angry." Ib said with some hesitance. "Are you sure you're alright? ... Why haven't you gone to bed?"

_**Cute little Ib.** _

"I could never be angry at you." He replied, lowering his head in a soft chuckle. "And why aren't _you_ in bed, dear?"

"W-well, I just wanted to hear your voice." She confessed, her embarrassed tone made his smile widen. Something warm was spreading out inside his chest, he felt so very completed. Ib was truly special. She could erase his foul mood as simply as that.

"Your voice put me at ease."

Garry hugged himself as he shifted his stance. "Aww, don't hesitate to call me whenever." He paused, then added. "Okay, Ib?"

"O-okay... Say, Garry?"

"Yes?"

"Um, you see..." She became hesitant once more, but he felt there was something entirely different about how she was behaving. "About the thing we talked about this afternoon..."

His stomach gave a disturbing churn. "This afternoon?" He asked, slowly becoming stiff.

"Yeah, about the boy that I... You know." She muttered, and he could imagine her face turning red as she uttered the words.

"Yes, what about him?" Garry did his best to keep his tone neutral and happy.

"Well, tomorrow, my school is having a trip, you see. The class will be split into groups of four, and I'm in his group."

**_I feel sick..._ **

"Isn't that nice." He smiled. "You have fun, sweetheart."

"And you see, we will have a some time to walk around with our groups. Maybe when I get to be alone with him..."

**_I feel sick._ **

"Garry, maybe I should confess-"

"No." He spat.

"Eh?" Ib jumped from his suddenly hard voice, surprise was imbued in her tone.

"A-ah, I mean, no, dear. You shouldn't. Really. Boys should be the ones making the confession." Garry shakily tried to salvage the situation as his mind was in turmoil. What did she mean by confessing? Too soon! She was only eleven, how would she know she really like the brat? ... And what if that ignorant brat rejected her? No. Just, no.

"You should wait for a while and get to know him better, okay Ib?"

"... Okay." She sounded utterly deflated, making him feel even more guilty.

"Oh well, geez, look at the time. It's late now, Ib. You should go to bed." He clumsily changed the subject. "Sleep tight now."

"... Night, Garry."

He waited until there was a click from the other side before putting the phone back to its cradle.

**_I feel sick?_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Rant: 
> 
> My PM box is always open for praises and flames. As are praises, flames are much welcome in there. Because just like you'd rather not praise me in public, I'd rather you not bash me in public.


	4. Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bothered by her feelings... he started to mull about his own.

**Anxiety**

_As a child grows up, she is bound to meet..._

_She will interact..._

_She will bond..._

_It's only a matter of time..._

* * *

**_I feel sick._ **

"...bear, Garbear~" He blinked into focus to see the face of Lucy right in front of his.

"Hyeeek!" Garry yelped, backing away and falling from the bench he was sitting on. Only moments after his back collided painfully with the hard floor, the table was filled with amused laughter.

He pushed himself off the ground, hissing sardonically as he got back on the bench. "Really, thanks guys. Your concerns moved me."

"Am I a monster or something?" The brunette complained from across the table, folding her arms and huffing in mock anger. "Did you need to scream like that?"

"You only realize that now?" A blond guy sitting at the other end of the table chuckled.

"The whole year named ya Lucifer, ya know." Another chimed in, grinning.

"If you two don't shut it then I'll let you two meet the real thing." She shot a glare at the two boys, earning her desired silence as they slapped a hand to their mouths.

Garry narrowed his eyes at the antics on the table and sighed. He didn't have the energy or zeal to join them. He hadn't been able to concentrate at all for the whole morning. The words of his lecturers were nothing but gibberish in his ears, he couldn't come up with a single idea for his assignments. Repeatedly, he'd found himself sitting in a daze, irked and annoyed.

He couldn't bring his thoughts away from the telephone call last night. Ib was a painfully shy child, for her to even thinking about confessing her feelings so easily and readily, he didn't know what that meant. He didn't want to know. She was only eleven, she shouldn't be thinking about love.

Even though he'd already discouraged her from the idea, he couldn't get rid of the nagging feeling that she would go against his advice. Ib never disobeyed him, not intentionally anyway. Children were impulsive little creatures. Ib was different, more mature than most of her peers, but she was still first and foremost a child. He'd learnt that in the gallery.

"Oh my god, what's the next class after this break?" A girl in the group whine, resting her face against the table.

Garry swiftly glanced in the general direction of the voice, then lowered his gaze to the glass before him. The random gas drink he'd picked had a burgundy colour much like Ib's eyes. That unique set of irises, he'd thought only her parents and he could understand their beauty. Yet, a random brat just popped out from nowhere, claiming to understand that distinctive charm. He used the drinking straw to poke at the floating ice cubes inside the glass, jaw tightening.

"Aye, Garret!" A strong slap on his shoulder woke him from his reverie, and he turned his head to address the culprit. It was another guy from his department. He had a mane of unruly black hair was highlighted with numerous streaks of blue. The fashion department, after all, gathered the largest crowd of people with the most peculiar tastes.

"Dark clouds are gathering, eh?" The man snickered cryptically, flashing his very prominent set of canines.

Garry blinked in confusion, his eyes darted upwards for a mere second to see the clear blue maw of the sky with barely a clump of cloud. He raised a questioning eyebrow at the brunette, who only shrugged. "Why don't you go home, chum?"

"See ya around." With that the guy took his untouched drink from his hands and walked away.

Garry's mouth hung opened as he watched the dark-haired man's back, trying to understand what that was all about.

"Oh? Since when we're you friends with that weirdo." The blond in his group asked.

He just shook his head. "I have no idea."

For some unknown reason, Raze just started talking to him though he could have sworn they had never rubbed shoulders before despite studying in the same year. That guy never made sense.

 _'... Go home, eh?'_ Garry gave it a thought and decided to entertain the idea. He pushed off the table, grabbing his backpack. "I'm leaving."

"Eh? You're skipping?" Someone commented, but he didn't bother checking who it was. He flashed a swift smile at his friends and turned to leave.

There was a short silence at the table.

"Heeh~ I wanna follow him, but my attendance record..."

"This is shocking, Garry's skipping?"

"Hey, don't you feel that there's something different about him? I say he's in a bad mood."

"Whatever, my heart just skipped a beat. Him acting all taciturn is _so_ mysterious."

"Right? He has a good face, if he'd just stop being a sissy..."

Lucy stayed silent. She sipped at her soda can, attentively watching the departing young man oblivious to the discussion he'd left behind.

* * *

Garry got back to his apartment. He unlocked the door with his keycard and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

He dropped his backpack down on the chair in his study and looked around the room, registering the mess it was in. Last night had been... a tad out of control. He rubbed the back of his neck and with a sigh, started gathering the books and paper strewn across his desk and on the floor. After a few minutes, everything was returned to their rightful places: still messy, but not a mess. Garry then picked out a few folders he would need and left the study.

Before he closed the door, the small hourglass lying on his desk caught his eyes, and he went back in to grab it along also. He'd bought this a while back from a random trinket shop when he'd been out of town. It was hand-sized, filled with cobalt sand. Ever since the gallery, blue just kind of became his color.

Garry left his things on the table in the living room together with the unfinished work from yesterday, then went to set the hourglass so that it stood on top of the television. The tiny grains inside the ornament began to flow and collect in the lower half. He stood and watched for a bit, before tipping it over.

.

He entered the bathroom for a short shower. Cleaned, he changed into a black tank top and dark loose-fitting trousers before joining his assignments in the living room.

He drew, erased, redrew, and balled up the paper. Rinse and repeat. Hours passed. He couldn't seem to be satisfied with anything he came up with. Why children's clothes? He wasn't familiar with children's clothing.

Garry clicked his tongue, grabbing a reference book to surf through a few examples. A picture of a small, ivory-white turtleneck caught his eyes. He felt it would suit Ib. She would look so cute in this. Not that she needed any clothes to compliment her, Ib was adorable from head to toe. The thought brought a small smile to his lips.

Ib was such a lovely little thing. So young, so serene. Innocent. She couldn't possibly understand what love was.

_"I like him."_

He bit hard at his thumbnail as he took out his cell to check the time. It was four thirty. He gave a short sigh and stood up from the couch. Walking into his bedroom, he headed for the wardrobe, only to come to a still. He looked absentmindedly at the greenery of his small backyard through the large glass window, deep in thoughts.

Ib was probably just experiencing a fleeting crush due to the fact that she had never talked with boys her age before. That particular kid just stood out from the rest. She was probably only impressed by how differently he treated her...

...

His eyes widened as the realization struck him.

**_Of course._ **

Impression was the key.

The stronger the impression, the longer the feeling would last. To the point of permanent, like a tattoo. Wouldn't she interact? Wouldn't she build a bond?

**_No._ **

Garry hastily pulled a cream-coloured shirt over his tank top and threw on a white jacket. He rushed towards the entrance to his apartment. As he yanked the door open, his other hand tapped on the screen of his phone. It was a few seconds later that the other side picked up.

"Yes? Irene Voltfied speaking."

"Hello, Garret here. I'm afraid I won't be able to come. Tell Mr. Garland I'm very sorry."

"Eh-"

He hung up and pocketed the phone.

He started running down the street, heading for the school area. Garry poorly manoeuvred through the sea of people during rush hour, passing everyone in haste, bumping into random pedestrian but never stopping to apologize. He quickly ran out of breath, but that didn't stop him.

**_What is this?_ **

Garry could only concentrate on one thing. One person. His heart had gone wild with its beating and was beginning to hurt. From exhaustion or a sudden nervousness, he wasn't sure. He had to be near her right now.

**_This ugly feeling..._ **

Arriving at his destination, out of breath, he found support in his knees, coughing as he gasped for air. His surrounding was noisy, filled with childish chatters and carefree laughter. Garry swallowed once, slowly regaining his normal breathing rhythm. He stood up straight and wiped the excessive sweats cascading down his cheek.

He was right at the entrance to the private academy where Ib attended. A tall, immaculate building painted royal red, an enormous campus ground, a prestigious environment. Garry silently watched as several of its students left through the gate, passing him with curious glances at his direction. Kids that enrolled here were all young masters and ladies from distinguished families, trimmed and pruned with the best the world had to offer.

This was where Ib had grown up in, where she belonged. This was her world. A world where he didn't exist.

If he had never met her in that gallery, would they ever cross paths?

He was different from her, so different. Mediocre upbringing, penniless, disown. Was it alright for a guy like this to be by her side?

"Garry?" He turned to the sound off his name being called a spotted little Ib standing just short a distance away from him.

His expression melted into a smile, and he beamed at her. "Ib!"

* * *

Inside a coffeehouse, a young woman with a fall of silver hair sat staring silently at the screen of her phone. She set it down on the table, pinkish eyes addressed the brunette man sitting across from her. "He's not coming."

The man gave her a bored look a popped two sugar cubes into his cup of black coffee.

"Sheesh, I only wanted to meet him during my coffee time to save the trouble." He kissed his teeth in slight annoyance, bringing the cup to his lips. "That brat."

"It sounded like he was in a rush." She offered.

The young man took a sip then sighed. "Oh well, just tell him I'll meet him at the apartment after the trip."

"Understood."

"But really, what would be more important than his life career?" His lips curved into a small smirk. "I'd really like to know."


	5. Monopolize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That moment when he realized his feelings...was also the moment he saw the ugliness of his heart.

**Monopolize**

_When you care about someone, wouldn't you want to stay by their side?_

* * *

**_This ugly feeling..._ **

Garry's smile was stuck on his face from a surge of relief washing over him. He walked up to Ib, grinning like an idiot, happy from just the sight of her. Ib was in her school uniform: a cream-coloured button-up shirt, golden-brown necktie and check skirt. She wore a soft surprised look, eyebrows slightly raised, head curiously tilting in a fraction of an inch. The little gesture made her seem so adorable that he just wanted to squeal like a teenage girl.

"Hey, how was your school trip?" He asked, stooping down to her level. "Did you have fun sweetheart?"

"It was fun." She answered, looking unsure. "But why are you here? We didn't agree to meet."

He pressed his lips together, averting his gaze for a moment. His departure has been utterly impulsive and spontaneous.

"Too see you." Garry answered simply with a shrug.

"... Why?" Ib gave a small befuddled frown.

"Hey, I just thought I'd drop by and pick you up." He stood up straight, placing both hands on his hips, and took on a mock chiding tone. "Don't tell me I can't see my favourite girl without a good reason. Aren't you happy to see me?"

Little Ib continued to stared at him wordlessly with an expressionless look. However, before he could put in a word, her composed mask cracked. A faint blush gathered at her cheekbones as her irises darted in place. "I-I'm happy." She admitted truthfully, stuttering in a daze. "Yeah, I'm happy." She reiterated as though feeling more sure of herself.

She was smiling.

A small ghost of a smile that was very... her. The way her small pink lips daintily stretched, how her eyes crinkled in the slightest, it was the familiar smile that she showed only to him.

The notion brought a sudden jolt at his heart that made him look away, confused. What was that? In bewilderment, he placed a hand onto his chest, registering the violent beating against his palm. The thumping hurt in a warm, fuzzy way he had never felt before. It was strange in a refreshing way. Garry glanced down at her and met her dejected gaze. "Garry, are you mad?" She asked, tugging at his sleeve. The way her big round eyes stared up at him, practically begging for attention...

**_Not good..._ **

He slapped a hand to his face and abruptly turned away from her, hoping to hide the blush that was threatening to bloom on his face. Oblivious to his predicament, she continued to pull at his jacket plaintively. "Garry? Garry~"

**_Not good._ **

"Just a minute, Ib." Garry could feel his face heating up and was desperate to hide it from her curious gaze. However, Ib persisted, clinging firmly to him.

**_God. Why am I..._ **

He swallowed. With a soft groan deep inside his throat, he bent down and scooped her up into his arms. Garry had to bend his neck a little to look up at her now. She has grown slightly taller than when they'd just met. Squeezing her tightly, he swooned. "Awwww gawd, why do you have to be sooo cute?"

**_Why am I like this?_ **

Ib blinked at him in confusion but didn't show any sign of discomfort at being crushed against him. Her lips were slightly pressed together as she quietly stared back at him. Her soft brown fall, her ruby orbs... Every one of her features was absolutely adorable in his eyes. "Geez, I could never be mad at you." He amended. "I'm just a bit tired is all."

She tilted her head, as though she was thinking hard about his words. Unexpectedly, she raised her hand and started patting his hair. He blinked laconically, having trouble understanding the situation. However, he couldn't raise a single word about the matter as his mind had already been overwhelmed. He liked it. Her short, slender fingers were rustling his mussed mane with utmost gentleness; soft pads slightly grazing his scalp.

"... You see, when I feel bad, Garry always pats my head and I feel all better." Ib started bashfully, breaking him from his fantasies. She continued to stroke his head as she spoke. "So I'll pat your head when you're unwell so that you can get better too."

.

**_Ah, this child..._ **

Garry smiled, craning up to touch his forehead with hers.

**_Why is she this loveable?_ **

"Thanks, Ib." He said, feeling the corners of his eyes stinging in the slightest. "I feel better already."

**_I like her..._ **

He snuggled his head into the crook of her neck, feeling her smooth locks against his cheek, taking in her familiar scent.

**_I really like her._ **

Ib could sense that something was off about Garry, but she wasn't quite sure what. Garry was a very good friend of hers. He was always smiling, always teaching her new things. She didn't want to see him sad. The little girl stayed still in her older friend's embrace, trying her best to ignore the many gazes from her peers around them that made her very conscious. She turned her head to watch the back of Garry's lavender head as his breath tickled her skin; letting the soft smell of his shampoo fill her nostrils.

Garry never told her anything, while she confided almost everything to him. Unfair. He always hid things from her, saying she didn't need to know. Was that because she was only a child? How she wished she could become an adult soon.

"Ib!" A familiar voice called out to her, startling Garry. His hold around her tightened momentarily, pulling her away from her reverie. She gave Garry one last concerned glance before pivoting her head to see her classmate standing a few feet away from them. It was the nice boy that she'd been telling Garry about. The blond boy gestured for her to come close as she felt Garry's warmth leaving her neck.

Garry detached himself from the hug and let her down on her feet.

"Sorry Garry, it'll just take a minute." She said hastily, taking a few steps back.

"Yeah sure hon, go go." He smiled, waving her on.

He watched as Ib ran up to the boy, whom he could tell was her little crush. Not many brats would call her out in that friendly manner. The boy was... quite the looker for his age, no wonder Ib had her crush. Garry's jaw tightened as he observed the kids from a distance. She clumsily received a notebook for the boy, her normally calm self nowhere to be seen. Instead she was blushing slightly as she went along with his banter.

**_Something is crumbling._ **

She was breaking from her shells, being more open, mingling with friends of her age. He should be glad, he really should.

What was this ugly sense of jealousy overtaking all of his reasoning?

**_I feel sick._ **

"Ib." He called out to her, interrupting whatever conversation the two kids were having. "Let's go, I need to buy some stuff."

"Okay!" She answered, waving goodbye to her friend. The child put the notebook into her backpack and trotted towards him.

**_Come._ **

Garry held out his hand and waited for Ib to take it. She happily grabbed his extended hand, the pinkish tint still lingering on her cheeks.

"Hey Garry, can I come to your place today?"

"Of course you can." He said, returning her smile. "How about we buy some macaroons while we're at it? My treat."

"Okay." She nodded enthusiastically. "I want the small ones."

"Sure thing."

**_You know, I really like you._ **

.

It'd been two years. Being besides her had become the norm. He was meant to be there for her. Together always. If he couldn't be with her, it just wouldn't feel right, wouldn't be right. No one was allowed, no one had the right to be besides her.

Garry gently squeezed Ib's hand as they walked towards the door of his apartment, gaining her attention. He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

He unlocked the door and held it open for her. She carried the bag of groceries inside, already familiarized with his home. He followed after her and closed the door behind him.

**_I love you, Ib._ **


	6. Nausea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An innocent confession...and his desire awakened.

**Nausea**

Garry was sorting out his mostly unneeded groceries in the kitchen when he heard his phone ringing from the living room. He had left it there inside the jacket, which should still be lying on the couch where he'd left it. Slightly annoyed, he started making his way out of the kitchen, clicking his tongue. Before he could reach the threshold, little Ib had beat him to it, in her hand his ringing phone.

"Garry, phone." She said, showing him the flashing screen. His eyes darkened when he took note of the caller's ID.

"Why thank you, sweetie." He petted her head, smiling as he received the device from her. "Go make yourself comfortable, I'll bring the macaroons after this."

"Okay, I'll be in your room." She replied and patted away.

He listened to the sound of her bare foot tapping on the wooden floor until he was sure she was out of hearing range and pressed answer.

"Hello, Garret's speaking." He spoke with the most solemn tone he could muster.

"You're free to talk, kid?" A man's energetic voice said playfully. Garry's eyes widened, his body immediately becoming taut, subconsciously taking a straighter stance. He wasn't at all prepared. The caller's ID was Ms. Voltfied, but the one speaking now was...

"Mr. Garland, um, what a surprise." He replied, nearly stuttering. "Yes, I'm free-" Garry closed his mouth the instant the words left though his teeth. He winced, shaking his head at his bad wit while biting back a soft curse. He hadn't directly said he was busy when excusing himself, but still...

The man on the other side let out a burst of raucous laughter, whether it was because the man had taken note of his contradicting himself or something else, Garry wasn't sure. He could only hope it was the latter.

Mr. Garland ended his laughter with a few coughs and continued. "Well, Reeny will take over now. I'm off."

"Eh?" He blinked as he heard small slapping sound.

 _"Leonard, I told you not to throw it like that!"_ Ms. Voltfied muffled voice could be heard from the other side, adding up to his confusion.

"Er, good evening, Mr. Wolfe." She said into the phone. "I'm very sorry for his capricious tendencies."

"It's not a problem at all I assure."

"Well, I apologize nonetheless. I shall get straight to the point. We will be out of town for the rest of the month, so Leonard will pay you a visit on a later weekend. Please make sure to keep your schedule open. Is that okay with you?"

"Yes, it's fine. I will make sure I'm free." Garry said with more conviction than he had ever tried to convey through only his voice before. "Please have a safe trip."

"Thank you. Well excuse me, we have to get going now."

The other line went dead with a click. Garry stood still, slowly taking a deep breath before relaxing his posture. His hand that was holding the phone dropped down to his side, his fingers loosely wrapped around the device. What had he done? He brought his gaze from the floor to the grocery bag on the kitchen table. He'd shirked off the meeting with his benefactor for what now?

Stifling a sigh, he went to the electric kettle and proceeded to boil some water. He stood and stared at the small bubbles inside the transparent appliance.

This was not right, but as strange as it was, he felt that his decision was worth it. He had been able to keep Ib from talking any further with her crush, and as stupid as he might sound, it felt like such an accomplishment. He couldn't care less about the aftermath.

* * *

"Ib~ I brought the snacks." Garry called out, using his shoulder to keep the door to his bedroom open as both his hands were busy with two mugs of hot cocoas and a plate of macaroons.

Inside, Ib was sitting on his bed with her back to him, completely absorbed by the greenery outside the window wall until she heard his voice. She immediately turned around and smiled shyly. The little girl then slid down from the bed and scuttled up to Garry to help him with carrying the macaroon plate.

He swiftly thanked her and shifted one of the mugs to his free hand for a safer grip on both. Ib went with him back to his bed, set the plate down on the mattress. There was a certain bounce to her movement that let him know she was in a very good mood, which made him feel at ease also. He joined her on the bed, giving her the smaller mug that she always used when she visited him.

"Be careful, don't burn yourself." He attentively told her as she received the hot cocoa.

"Okay." She replied. Holding the mug with both hands, she cautiously took a sip of it.

.

Silence quickly filled the room, the kind of comfortable quiescence that they usually shared just enjoying each other's company.

Normally, Garry would be the one talking and getting Ib to talk, but right now he didn't feel like talking either. They just sat and watched for the slightest change of his backyard. Ib was such a quiet child, most kids her age wouldn't be able to handle staying in silence like this. Instead of moving around and being active, Ib loved to stare. She could sit and stare all day if the subject interested her enough. The subject, in this case, was the garden; she seemed to like it very much for some reason. The thought made him grin inwardly. He took care of the plants everyday, so it felt nice to have someone appreciate it.

One day, he would have to return this place to Mr. Garland, which was regretful. He was getting attached to the garden.

His mulling brought him back to his current dilemma. He might have angered his benefactor... or not. Garry could never tell what that man was thinking behind his smiling countenance. He could be kicked out of this place when the man come visiting next month. Should that happen-

"Garry?" Ib's voice broke through his clouded thoughts, and he turned his attention to his little friend.

"Yes?" He smiled. Ib didn't say anything, only looking at him with hesitant eyes. "What is it, sweetheart?" He encouraged, taking note that she had finished her drink. "Oh, do you want some more cocoa?"

She shook her head from side to side.

"Then what?" He chuckled, not at all annoyed. He found himself to be extremely patient with anything that concerned Ib. "Here, give me that." He took the empty mug from her hands and placed it on the nightstand just to his left.

Ib buried her hands between her thighs and started dangling her legs, still not saying anything. He didn't push her either, only waited. Outside, the sun was setting, giving his garden a yellowish hue. It was getting dark.

"... Is something bothering you, Garry?"

He nearly spit out the cocoa he was drinking.

Garry swallowed with difficulty and cleared his throat before answering. "W-what makes you say that, dear?" He strained a smile, placing his now empty mug down on the nightstand also.

"You seem stressed. Am I intruding at a bad time?" She raised her gaze at him, head sinking between her shoulders.

"No! No, you're not. Don't ever think that." Garry exclaimed softly, placing a hand on his hip. "You're always welcomed."

"Okay."

He fell back onto his bed, containing a frustrated groan. Did it show? Garry rubbed a hand over his face. He wasn't supposed to stale their time together, he wasn't supposed to worry her, he wasn't supposed to pull her into his problems... she wasn't supposed to notice.

**_She's growing._ **

He felt the bed shift and brought his attention to the little girl next to him. Ib had climbed fully onto his bed and was now staring down at him; her silken locks hung just above his face, wafting a sweet scent to his nostril that made him take a deep breath. She watched him with a calm expression, yet her eyes were filled with concern.

"Are you stressed?" She asked again.

Garry chuckled, suppressing his wry look. "No, I'm just tired from school, Ib." He stroked her head lovingly and pinched her nose. "Thanks for worrying. Now how about you tell me something I don't know?"

It was a small routine they had to help Ib practice expressing herself more through speeches: to have her tell him something he didn't know. It worked quite well, because Ib couldn't possibly know more than he did so she always had to say a lot. She would have this slightly sulky face every time he announced she had to try again. He loved that sullen face, and sometimes would even lie to see it.

Ib didn't look too pleased. She lay down besides him and pouted. "Now? Why?"

"Why not?" He beamed.

Her lips tightened, she started gathering his messy blanket under them into a small mount and buried her lower face in it. Garry rolled onto his side to face with her. He watched with interest as her red orbs scanned his room in an attempt to find something to talk about.

"... Garry."

"Yeah?" He played with her hair. The smoothness he felt against his palm was exceptionally pleasant. How nice it would be if he could-

"You know, I used to like the smell of my bed the best." She said shyly, catching his attention; her eyes carefully searched him as though gauging his reaction. The little girl looked away for a moment, then went back to burying her face into his blanket. "But now, I like yours most."

.

Garry sprung up to a sitting position, averting his face. Surprised, Ib slowly got up and tilted her small head. "Garry?" She called. "Was that no good?"

**_No good._ **

"N-no, it's fine, Ib. It's fine." He assured her, scampering to stand up while avoiding her eyes. "I didn't know that. Erm, whew, look at the time. Let me just... take a quick shower and I'll take you home, okay hon?"

Before Ib could input a single word, Garry had already fled the room. Left alone on the bed, she lied down on one of Garry's pillows and took in a breath. Her thoughts drifted back to the sweet scent of lavender shampoo from when he hugged her.

* * *

Garry got into the bathroom and shut himself inside. He leaned back against the door, hanging his head low. A rush of sudden heat ran through his body and his breathing hitched. He cupped his face, wiping it over and over to recollect his composure.

**_What is this?_ **

He swallowed with difficulty and shook his head.

**_Why run away?_ **

He eyed the shower for a moment and proceeded to take off his clothes, in haste. He shrugged off his shirt and tank top, hurriedly freed himself from the pants that somehow felt so tight.

**_Hot._ **

Garry stepped into the shower. With a swift flip, cold water immediately rained down on him, making him shudder involuntarily. He disliked coldness, but he stayed still. A few moments later, a small click of the tongue could be heard amidst the shower. He irritatedly slapped a hand onto the tap, turning it to the opposite side.

The sudden change in temperature made the skin on his back screamed in protest, but he couldn't care less. As water ran down his naked body, he looked down at himself.

**_I must have some kind of serious illness._ **

He wrapped his hands around his semi-hardened length and gave it a gentle squeeze. His eyelids became heavy.

**_I'm sorry..._ **

His mind was flooded with images of her. Her face, her hair, her eyes, her body... _Her_. Vivid memories enhanced by sickening desires. Immaculate fantasies.

Biting back a hiss, he toppled forward and leaned his head against the marble wall in front of him; his hand never stopping. Back and forth. Faster and faster. Then slowed to a stop. He opened his eyes, barely registering the humid steam surrounding him. This was wrong. He could barely think; his rock-hard length encased between his fingers was aching for more. He closed his eyes.

**_I'm sorry._ **

He went on, growing more and more crazed with every stroke. The water running along his back steaming hot, his breath ragged, his every thought focused entirely on her. Wild heartbeats thundered inside his ribcage, he grounded his forehead to the wall, jaw hardening.

"Nngh..." Garry shakily heaved through tight lips, shuddering in the slightest as his emotions hit the zenith. He stilled as he took his release. Hands fell limped by his sides, he tried to calm his breathing.

**_... The worst._ **


	7. Enthralled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching her, touching her... his mind went numb.

**Enthralled**

Garry slowly stepped out from the humid bathroom, dressed in the clothes he'd previously thrown off. He had a towel to dry his still dripping head as his eyes scanned the quiet surrounding with a dull gaze. Through a window, he could see that it had gone dark. The air was cool... cold, making his skin crawl in the slightest. The differences that his senses had picked up made what had happened seem like a dream, one festering dream.

His gaze fell onto the hourglass he had set atop the television and he froze. The ornament was standing, sand... was falling... rapidly. He strode up to the hourglass and tipped it over again.

.

A small chuckle escaped his lips as he stabbed a hand over his damp hair. Taking a deep breath, he took a moment to close his eyes and reorganize his mind.

"Ib~" He called out loud as he made a turn into the corridor leading into his bedroom. "Get ready, dear. We'll go after I'm finish drying my hair."

He lifted an eyebrow when there was no reply. "Ib sweetie?" A small sense of worry tugged at his heart as he wondered about the unsettling silence. Ib was a quiet child, but she answered when called. Pushing at the door that had been left open, he entered his bedroom to see little Ib lying in the middle of his bed. Her head buried in his pillow, she was curled up in the fetal position, peacefully asleep.

Garry let out a short breath as his swift anxiety dispersed. He sauntered towards the bed, still drying his lavender mop. Stopping at the head of his bed, he reached down to shake her, but found himself unable to do so. Ib seemed so at ease, snoozing comfortably on the mattress; her rounded, angelic features only made it that much harder for him to wake her. He just kept staring, feeling something melt inside him.

**_Cute..._ **

He sat down next to Ib, being careful not to rouse her. She stirred as though in response to his movement. The little girl only snuggled further into his pillow and resumed her previous rhythm. Garry relaxed the stiff pose he'd subconsciously assumed and moved in closer to her. He began to study her face. It was strange. He'd been seeing her for two years, yet he could never get tired of looking at her. Her faintest lineament interested him. The small curve of her nose, how her cheekbones barely showed under her baby fat, her soft pink lips that were slightly open, the wee long lashes that gently kissed her skin, and her eyes that was chasing some whimsical dream under closed lids.

This was a privilege. He was the only one, asides from her parents, to have seen her like this: tranquil, oh so defenseless.

His mind drifted back to the hourglass. One day, she would grow up. She would find love. She would smile at 'him'. This side of her 'he' would meet. This face, 'he' would see.

**_... He who?_ **

Garry took her hand into his, gently wrapping his bony fingers around her delicate ones as though any strength wrongly applied could break them. Sensing no reaction from her, he ventured further and encased her whole hand.

**_So lovely..._ **

He traced his thumb over her smooth palm, slowly stroking up towards her fingers. Her skin was like velvet against his.

Ib gave a soft moan in her sleep, drawing his attention to her small mouth. Garry swallowed a sudden lump in his throat and felt his heart quicken. Letting out a quick, shaky breath, he raised his other hand to her face. A finger over her slightly chapped lips, he found himself biting his own pair. He brushed the hand up to her ear, tucking back some of the loose locks; his thumb languidly caressing the pale skin of her cheek.

It was all hazy. His head was empty. Nothing mattered then.

With utmost tenderness, he squeezed at her hand. Eyes fixated on her parted lips, he leant in. Closer, closer. Her sweet fragrance became more apparent, tingling his senses. His eyelids grew heavy. He tangled his fingers into her thick fall, tips grazing the back of her ear. He could hear her soft, rhythmic breathing, feel it whiffing against his face. He closed his eyes...

"Nn, Garry..." Her small voice pierced through his reverie, abruptly shaking him from his long trance.

His eyes shot opened as his heart did a violent flip. Garry instantly released his grips on her and jerked away, nearly falling off the bed.

Ib was still asleep, blissfully unaware of his prior advances. She was smiling, mumbling some incoherent words under her breath.

**_... What did I?_ **

Garry put a hand over his mouth, shocked at his own actions. A drop of cold sweat rolled down the nape of his neck as his stomach churned.

**_Not good._ **

"Ib." He called firmly, gently shaking her. "Hey, wakey wakey."

She didn't even stir.

"Ib~" Garry shook her a few more times. When there was no reaction whatsoever, he huffed. "Ib!" He ruffled her hair, with a little more force than normally needed. Ib suddenly sprang right up, completely catching him off guard. Startled, he slipped off from the edge of the bed and his behind painfully met the wooden floor.

Ib stared at him with confused and bewildered eyes. "O-oh, you're up. Nice dream?" He gave her an inane smile.

"Ah..." She hastily combed her hands through her messy locks, flushing faintly. "S-sorry, Garry. I fell asleep."

"No probs," Garry smiled brightly as he got to his feet. "Go gather your things, hon. I'll take you home after I'm done drying my hair."

"... Okay." She slid down from his bed and pattered towards the door.

Ib stopped just outside of Garry's room, seemingly thinking over something. The little girl discreetly poked her head through the threshold, half-hiding behind the open door, spying on her friend's unsuspecting back as he used the hair-dryer.

* * *

"Alright. I'm done now." Garry said as he exited his room. Greeted by an empty living room, he called. "Ib?... Ib~"

"I'm here." Her head popped up from behind the sofa and she smiled sheepishly at him.

"... Did you doze off again?" He let out a small chuckle, walking up to her.

"I was only lying down a bit." Ib answered defensively with a small pout.

Garry only smiled knowingly. He raised a hand to her face and cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing under her eye. "The trip is taking its toll on you, hmm?"

Ib lowered her gaze, her ruby orbs half veiled by long lashes. "Yeah..." She reluctantly admitted.

**_Cute little Ib._ **

He stroked her adorable little head. "Come on, let's get you home, hon."

She nodded and turned around to climb off from her seat. Garry bent down to grab the jacket he'd left on the sofa, swiftly putting it on.

"Garry?"

"Yes, yes?" He looked up to see Ib looking at him, her eyes somehow searching. She was holding her backpack with one hand, the other... was pointing at the television. "Yeah?"

"The hourglass is lying down again." She stated curiously, tilting her head. "I placed it back up before."

.

**_The thing about sand..._ **

Garry felt his gut churn. His face suddenly felt stiff as he fought to keep a normal face.

**_Is that the tighter you grip..._ **

"Oh? Is that so?" He said sweetly, walking around the long sofa to join his little friend in front of the fallen ornament. "Geez, silly me must have accidentally knocked it over." The forced smiled made his facial muscle hurt, but he kept it up. He reached out and brought the hourglass back to its prior stance. The sand began flowing once more; it nearly made him frown.

**_The more will slip through your fingers..._ **

"Thanks for replacing it earlier, Ib." Garry patted Ib's head. She smiled back at him. He then put a hand to the back of her neck, gently leading her away. "Let's go now."

Obeying his words, Ib went to put on her shoes. Garry didn't follow her right away, instead staying behind, taking a lingering look at the hourglass. The cobalt sand drained from the upper bulb in such haste, oblivious to his wish for otherwise.

**_Just like time..._ **

Garry slowly approached Ib from behind as she busied herself with tying her shoelaces. Her small back wasn't as small as he remembered. She was growing, she would keep growing... Would he still be next to her? His jaw hardened. He didn't want her to leave his side. Never. He wanted to keep her near forever.

**_... Keep her 'here' forever?_ **

.

He froze, stunned. He put a hand to his face, feeling his pupils dilated.

**_... What did I?_ **

"Garry." A sudden tug at his jacket's sleeve brought his thoughts back into focus, and he warily looked down at the little girl in front of him. She was staring up at him with her round orbs, showing silent concern through them. "I'm done, Garry."

"... Oh, okay~" He crinkled his eyes at her for a moment, and turned away. "Let me just put my shoes on."

**_Ah, no good._ **


	8. Shunned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something was beautiful budding... but another was crumbling.

**Shunned**

_Insecurity is something tenacious that only grows unless soothed._

 

 

* * *

She quickly jotted down the words of her teacher into the open notebook, not entirely paying attention to what exactly she was copying down from the whiteboard. As a result, she had to constantly glance up and down, giving herself a slight headache. She couldn't seem to concentrate no matter how hard she tried; her mind kept wandering elsewhere but the lesson. It didn't feel right, staying distracted. She always paid attention.

Finally, she finished the strangely arduous task of taking notes and placed her pen down. Her teacher had already continued with the lesson, talking on about how a revolution had started. Ib glanced around the classroom. All of her classmates were listening intently, hooked by the woman's storytelling. Feeling like the odd one out, she hastily looked back at her teacher, trying to stay focused... to no avail. Without herself realizing it, her thoughts had already drifted back to yesterday.

.

_"Ma," she had tugged at her mother's shirt. "May I use your phone?"_

_The woman had her shoulder-length hair held back behind her head by one hand. She took the rubberband held between her lips with her free hand and turned to look at her little girl, smiling helplessly. "Calling Garry again hmm? You really like him, don't you dear?" Alysha said as she tied her auburn hair into a small ponytail._

_"Yeah." Ib answered with a faint smile. "May I? I want to eat macaroons with him."_

_"Didn't you two eat together just yesterday?" Her mother bent down and gently patted her head. "But alright," the gentle woman took out her phone and held it out to her child. "Just make sure you do your homework before going."_

_"I will. Thank you, Ma." she said quickly, receiving the device with both hands, before taking hurried strides to the stairs._

_Alysha could only smiled as she looked on, shaking her head at how active her little girl become when the young man was involved._

_._

_Ib took her mother's phone to her own room and closed the door behind her. She liked her privacy. Even if it was only her parents, she wouldn't want them listening in on her conversation with Garry._

_The little girl flopped down on her bed, dialling in Garry's number from memory, and put the device to her ear. She listened to the long monotonous beeps. Once, twice, thrice... Garry still hadn't picked up. Normally, he would pick up very fast, even more so if it was his cell she was calling, since he always kept it near him._

_She put her free hand between her thighs and started dangling her legs; her fingers playing with the hem of her blue shorts. Ib breathed out as she straightened up to adjust her string tank top. Her eyes scanned around the room, finding some form of entertainment from her stuffed animal friends._

_At the tenth beep, a pang of dejection hit her. She brought the phone from her ear to look at the screen; her face voided of expression as usual._

_She canceled the call and slowly lied down on her bed. Ib rolled onto her side and stared blankly at the colourful background of her mother's phone. Suddenly, the device started vibrating, and a small melody soon accompanied the motion. There was no caller ID, but the number..._

_Ib instantly pressed answer and put the phone to her ear. "Hello, Garry?"_

_"O-oh, Ib. Hi..." He stuttered, his voice trailing slightly; he sounded lethargic._

_"... Is something wrong?" She asked, concerned._

_"Eh, no... Everything's just fine." He said cheerily, his voice pushed so high she could imagine his beaming face in her mind. "Now what did you want to call me about?"_

_"Um well, I was wondering," Ib said, rolling onto her stomach and propping herself up with her elbows. "Can we meet up this afternoon? I want to-"_

_"Aye, sorry honey." Garry had quickly replied. Maybe too quickly. "I'm busy today. Sorry, maybe some other day."_

 

 

* * *

Left alone in the changing room, Ib leisurely put on her PE uniform. Her classmates had already gone ahead to the school ground for the next period, but she was in no hurry to join them. She had never like exercises, so she always purposely lagged behind to skip out as much of the lesson as possible. Ib slipped on the pair of black shorts, then proceeded to pull the white shirt over her head. The girl took her sweet time neatly folding the uniform she'd just changed out of and placed it inside her locker.

She stared listlessly at the door of her locker for a few seconds, closed it and walked outside. The hallway was quiet, only the muffled voice of the kids on the school ground was audible, telling her the next period had long started. She did not panic, however. The girl glanced down at her wrist, taking notice of her bracelet that was given to her by Garry. She had forgotten to take it off.

It was immediately decided in her head she would return to the classroom to put the bracelet away. She wouldn't risk losing it during the two PE periods.

Ib placed her hand over the bracelet, rolling the small silver chain between her fingers. She'd never got to talk with Garry again after that phone call, which ended shortly after he'd declined her request. It felt strange. Lacking. It wasn't like this was the first time Garry was too busy to see or call her, but somehow Ib could sense something was entirely off.

The feeling kept nagging at her, refusing to relent, and she only grew more anxious. A part of her sulked, another part dismayed. She silently scolded herself for feeling that way. It wasn't like Garry could indulge her anytime. Being an adult, he obviously had more to worry about. Still, she couldn't shake off these negative thoughts.

She couldn't wait for school to end so she could go see Garry and finally clear these unfounded worries plaguing her mind.

.

Ib closed her backpack after putting her accessory away and headed out of the classroom. As she reached for the knob, it turned and door was pulled away from her. Her eyes shot up to meet with a dark pair, and she instantly became weary. It was a classmate of hers, one that was always saying mean things to her.

The dark-haired boy, Lorrance, narrowed his eyes at her. "Red-eyed freak." He hissed as though disgusted as he glided past her.

She was so used to that insult it barely marred her feelings anymore, but annoyance still rose in her mind. Her expression didn't change in the slightest as she turned around. "Are you skipping?" She asked after the boy. "You shouldn't do that."

Lorrance halted his trek and glared at her over his shoulder. "Oh, and you're not?"

"No." She replied simply. In her opinion, she was only being late for the period, which was more justifiable than skipping the whole lesson altogether.

"Well, good for you." He snorted, brushing her off. "Just don't go blabberin-"

"I will."

His dark eyes glowered at her dangerously. The boy sauntered back to her, towering over her as he grated. "What was that?"

It wasn't like Ib wasn't afraid, but she stood her ground. She didn't want to let the bully have the pleasure of oppressing her. Taking up a straighter stance, she lifted her chin to stare right back at him. "I'll tell."

Ib was in no way a tattler, but she wanted to make Lorrance feel uncomfortable, just as he'd been making her feel.

"Don't you dare." He warned.

If she was the slightest bit unnerved by him, it didn't show. She looked at him with bored eyes, then turned to walk away. However, before she could even take one step out of the classroom, Lorrence grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him.

"Say you won't tell." He ordered.

She stayed silent, hiding her frown, and tried to pull away. Amidst the struggle, she heard him clicking his tongue, and before she knew it, she was shoved back. Her right arm scraped hard along the edge of the door as she fell, but she didn't care about checking up on it. Ib raised her gaze to Lorrence, feeling her heartbeats quicken. The corners of her eyes were burning, but she pressed her lips together, refusing to cry.

"Hey, what are you doing?" A familiar voice shouted as hurried footsteps could be heard.

Ib turned her head, and her heart was thrown into a greater chaos as she recognised who it was. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she scampered to stand up in haste.

"Lorr, are you bullying her again?" The blond demanded as he came to a stop before his two peers.

"Mind your own business, Ray." Lorrance shoved his hands into his pockets, looking away.

"You're always like this. The teacher told me to..." Ray's angry voice died out as his green eyes fell on her, or rather her arm. "... Ib?"

Even Lorrance seemed to have gone pale from following the blond's line of sight.

"Your arm's bleeding!" Ray exclaimed, alarmed.

Her brows rose slightly at his words, and she raised her hand to check. There was a long slit stretching from near her wrist to her elbow, oozing with dark red blood. "... It is." She affirmed.

 

 

* * *

"Sheesh. How can you not notice that? Does it really not hurt?" Her classmate asked skeptically as they walked down the hallway to the infirmary, his eyes fixated on her wound.

Ib only nodded. She had her right arm held to her chest, her other hand pressing a clean towel to the cut. It did hurt, actually. After she was informed of the slit, it began to hurt, but she saw no reason to comment about it. She could ignore this. This was nothing compared to the gallery.

"Okay..." Ray muttered, unconvinced. "Well, next time, don't hesitate to tell me if Lorr says anything. I'll teach him a lesson." He held up his fist to make his point.

She nearly smiled at that. Garry had also said he'd teach the kids who bullied her a lesson. It felt nice having someone on her side.

"... But he's your friend." Ib countered quietly.

" _So?_ " The blond raised a questioning brow. "You're also my friend."

She averted her gaze, masking her abashment. They were considered friends? The notion made butterflies rise in her stomach. She had never had a friend at school before. It was new.

"I see..." She mumbled, at a loss for words.

"What? You don't wanna be my friend?" Ray asked with a chuckle.

"N-no, I want to!" The word had already escaped her lips before she could stop herself. Was she being too excited? Ib immediately clammed up and fixed her gaze to the ground, feeling a flush gathering at her cheeks. Her wit worked at full speed for something to say and remedy her embarrassment "I mean..."

"That's great." He grinned at her, then brought his gaze forward. "I wanna be your friend too."

Ib did her best to keep her expression neutral as her mind was in a cacophony. She wasn't at all used to conversing with kids her age, and Ray was so straightforward.

She stole a glance at the boy that walked next to her. Strange. Ray was nothing like Garry. They talked differently, acted differently,... they had nothing in common. However, she felt that they were somehow very similar. Maybe it was because of the things they said to her, things that... made her emotions flutter.

 

 

* * *

"Okay, you're done." The dark-skinned nurse said to her with a small smile as the woman pressed a large bandage over the cut that was still stinging from disinfectant. "It shouldn't leave a scar. Refrain from stretching the skin and it'll be gone completely in a few weeks."

"Thank you, miss." She said, running her fingers over the bandage.

"Don't touch." The woman lightly hit her hand away, then went to put away the first aid kit. "It seems you're having PE?"

"Yes. We have PE for the next two periods." Ray answered from next to her on the bed.

"Well, I don't think you should be exercising so I'll write a note to your teacher." The nurse said as she pushed her long black hair behind her shoulders. She took out a pen from her coat's pocket and sat down behind desk. "What's your name and class?"

"I'm Ib... Lowell." The little brunette replied. "Class 6B."

The nurse wordlessly scribbled down on a piece of paper before holding it out to her. Ib hurriedly slid off the bed and courteously received it with both hands. As she read over the almost illegibly small writing that all adults were mysteriously fond of using, an idea came to her.

"Um, then..." She hesitated, gaining the nurse's attention. "May I take an early leave?"

The woman seemed to give the question a bit of thinking as she stared back at Ib. "... I guess it's fine. As long as you have a guardian to pick you up." She took the cell phone left lying on her desk and gave it to the little girl. "Here, do you want to call your parents?"

"I do. Thank you, miss." She accepted the device, inwardly wincing at how eager she was acting. However, she just brushed her self-consciousness to a side and began dialling.

"Eh, then you're really leaving?" Ray asked from behind her.

"Yeah." Ib put the phone to her ear as she turned around and nodded.

"Bummer." The blond shifted his stance and knitted his hands behind his head. "I thought we could pair up for practice."

She blinked laconically. He wanted to pair up with her? Nobody wanted to practice with her before. The girl was at a complete loss at how she should respond, in the end, she settled with a single "Why?"

"... Er, because I want to?" Ray tilted his head in confusion.

"Oh..." Was the only follow up she could contribute. Ib couldn't think of anything to say to disperse the awkwardness that was starting to build up in the room. Ray kept staring at her as if expecting something more from her, which greatly unnerved her. It was times like this that she actually appreciated her unexpressive nature.

Suddenly, a soft cough broke the pregnant silent in the room, and the two kids turned their attention to the taciturn nurse still sitting behind her desk. "Boy, I believe you can head to class now." The woman took a sip of her water bottle, then continued. "Ib can stay here until her guardians come, so would you mind bringing my note to your teacher?"

"Yeah, I'll do it." Ray said as he took the piece of paper from her hand. "Remember Ib, next time you have to pair up with me okay?"

The boy smiled and waved at her at her before sprinting out of the infirmary, leaving her staring on in befuddlement. Ib couldn't seem to describe what she was feeling, she wasn't even sure what she was feeling. If summed up in one word, maybe it was 'happy'? All she knew was that she really, really liked Ray right now. Almost like-

"Hello," a familiar groggy voice jolted her back to reality.

"G-Garry," Ib hurriedly cup the phone to her ear with two hands, trying to regain her composure. "Um, hi."

"Ib?" Surprise was evidential in his voice; there was a soft ruffling noise in the background that suggested he was getting out of his bed in haste. "W-what's up? Where are you calling from, dear? Whose phone are you using? Are you alright? Nothing happened right?"

"Calm down, Garry." She said, almost giggling, as a sense of relief washed over her. Garry was still his overreacting self, still used his effeminate tone that sounded so natural to her, still cared for her... nothing was wrong. She was worrying for naught. "I'm at school."

"Oh, okay." Ib gave a faint smile as she heard him exhale on the other side. "So, er, why are you calling me during school?"

"You see, I'm leaving early and I need a guardian to pick me up." She tried to speak slowly, barely containing her excitement. She wanted let him know about her new friend, about the cut, wanted to hear him talk. She simply wanted to stay in his company. "Can you-"

"Then why didn't you call Ma or Pa?" He asked, cutting her off. His tone was... different.

"W-well, I thought we could... eat macaroons at your place..." She hesitated, her mind trying to comprehend the situation. "Can't we?"

Another sigh could be heard through the speaker, but it wasn't the same as the last. Her heart tightened, gripped by a great discontentment. She could already hear the unsaid answer, but a small hope still lingered that Garry would change his mind.

"Aye... sorry, hon." His words hit her like a brick, shattering any glimmer of hope left in her. "I can't come pick you up... Just... I'm a bit tied up at the moment... No, no... I, er... Look, I just... Can't."

Garry sounded tired. Wasn't he in bed just now? Hadn't he been stressed out by something recently?

"I see..." Ib tried to dismiss her selfish thoughts and said, albeit very unwillingly. "I understand."

"Good girl, now you call Pa and get home safely for me?"

"Okay..." She replied, feeling lost. "Get better soon, Garry."

"Thanks, sweetie." He chuckled dryly. "I'll hang up now, kay?"

And the line went dead before she could input another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Rant:
> 
> Did you know Lowell's meaning is wolf also? I didn't know that when I chose the surname for Ib.


	9. Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was wrong so... it must be ended.

**Wants**

The room was dark, dimly lit by the late afternoon sunlight that leaked in through the gaps between the large curtains covering the window wall. He sat on the edge of his bed with the thick blanket loosely draped over his naked waist, staring at the unfamiliar phone in his hand. His thumb swiftly traced over the keypad, then went to pin at the power button, so hard he could feel the material caving in under the force. Soon, the screen turned black and he chucked the device onto the nightstand.

With a muffled grunt, he stabbed a hand through his shaggy mop.

.

He brought his gaze up, away from the dull wooden floor beneath his feet, and tried to observe the garden through the crack between the two curtains, seeking the peace of mind it always offered. A lost cause. He couldn't seem to calm down, feeling irritated for no reason. The AC whirred, breathing the chilliness onto his bare skin, making his skin crawled uncomfortably. He disliked the cold, but turning on the AC seemed like a good idea before.

Garry felt the bed shifted. Fighting a frown, he turned his head slightly to look over his shoulder as two slender arms snaked around his torso and warm skin pressed against his cold back. The girl rested her chin into the crook of his neck, snuggling her head against his jaw.

"Who was that?" she crooned. "You seem serious."

"I'm done, Scarl." he said in a sigh, gently prying her hands from his chest.

"Well gee, I just thought you looked cold." she persisted, tightening her embrace and chuckling. "You _are_ cold," her voice purred. "I like cold."

"Scarlet."

"Alright, alright." the girl pulled away from him and slid back under the blanket.

Garry, relieved, stood up and walked around the bed to pick up his clothes left lying on the floor. He threw his shirt onto the bed and hastily thrust his legs though the pair of black boxers. There was an uncanny urge to quickly get dressed and do something, he just wasn't sure what. Regardless, he grabbed his dark jeans and started to put them on.

"Ib," he froze in mid action as a velvety voice he knew all too well said from behind. "Was that the little girl you were always talking about? You sounded _really_ frantic."

He turned around and met with an inquisitive red gaze. Scarlet was lying on her side in his bed; her hand supporting her chin up from the pillow. Her long fall of dyed silver blond hair was offering a fair view of her bosom, blending nicely with her pale complexion. She wore a playful look that made her vermillion eyes glittered impishly.

Garry proceeded to put on the jeans, stifling another sigh. "You eavesdropped." he accused.

" _You_ woke me up." she quipped.

"... I thought you left already." Garry said as he buttoned his jeans, not looking at her.

"Well~ normally I would," she trailed off cutely. "But you were _sooo_ good today I just naturally fell asleep."

He narrowed his eyes at her, at a loss for words.

The girl raised her brows at him in a smug smile as she pushed the blanket pass her legs and climbed off the bed in a quick motion. Garry immediately averted his gaze from her as she remained completely unashamed about baring her curves. At this, Scarlet giggled, sauntering towards him with hands knitted behind her back.

"Quit getting embarrassed, it's not like you haven't seen all of me already." she said as she pinched his cheek. "How cute."

Garry jerked his head away from her hand. He kept his eyes strictly on his wrinkled white shirt as he continued to put it on. "A girl should be mindful and cover herself when there's a man around."

"Oh?" She placed her hands onto her hips and huffed. "A man should just be grateful and _stare_ when there's a beautiful naked girl around."

His face fell. "Don't you have practice this evening?" Garry glanced at her only for a moment as he fixed his shirt so that it fitted him better. "Wouldn't wanna keep you."

"Boo, shooing me as soon as you're done. Meanie." Scarlet stuck her tongue out at him as she bounced pass. "Fine, I'm using the bathroom."

He heard the sound of the door open and his body relaxed. Dealing with Scarlet always tired him out.

Garry hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck as he walked up to the bed. He gathered the blanket into a messy black lump at the foot of the bed to straighten the bed sheet underneath. He could still feel the lingering warmth as he wiped his hand over the smooth surface.

**_I feel sick._ **

"You know," her voice startled him. Knowing Scarlet would never speak unless she got the listener's full attention, Garry turned to face her, without much zeal. She was poking her head through the threshold with a serious expression on her face. "You like this is hot, but I like my cheery friend better." The girl wagged a finger at him. "Turn back soon, Garbear."

.

Once again left alone, Garry heaved yet another sigh and folded his arms, looking down at the still wrinkled surface of his dark bed sheet. He bit at the inside of his lips as the memories of mere hours ago replayed in his mind: the soft skin against his, the slender body in his embrace, the warmth that wrapped around him, the sweet moans grazing his earlobes... the orbs of crimson hazed with passion looking back at him.

He put a hand to his face.

**_I feel sick._ **

_The phone on his desk started ringing, pulling his attention away from the book he was holding. He shifted the book into one hand and reached for the device. As soon as he saw the screen, he dropped the phone and leant back against his chair to resume his reading._

Garry pressed his lips together, suppressing a groan.

_The phone continued to ring, and with every second it did, he became more and more taut. He began tapping his finger at the hard cover; his favourite melody was turning into a source of annoyance. He refused to pay it any heed, doing his best to block out the only sound in his quiet study. At last, the persistent ringing stopped. His body relaxed and he finally turned the page._

He clicked his tongue and began stripping the bed sheet with unneeded haste.

_He found himself staring at the phone that now sat in silence on his desk, as though expecting something. He swallowed, closing the book, and took the phone into his hand._

Taking long strides towards the washing machine, Garry quickly stuffed the large bed cloth inside and closed the lid.

_He ended the call; disappointment clogging his mind. His jaw hardened. The phone was thrown to the ground._

.

"Oh wow, geez." a feminine voice exclaimed from behind just as he pressed the start button on the washing machine. Garry turned around, acknowledging the blonde standing right behind him with a mixture of surprise and confusion on his face.

Scarlet was wearing his dark green tank top together with black shorts, which was also his. Her hair was damp from the shower; a sweet fragrance of his lavender shampoo softly emanating from her. The girl crossed her arms and shifted her weight onto one leg, her other foot tapping on the wooden floor. "Is this a new way of bullying, Garbear?" She asked with an undecipherable smile, looking down at the bed cloth being washed through the semi-transparent lid.

"Bullying?" Garry raised one eyebrow and placed a hand onto his hip as he followed her gaze, then looking back at her. "What?"

Her lips stretching into a mischievous smirk, she looked up at him with observant red eyes. "You're not washing the sheet because I was on it, are you? You were always so lazy to wash it before."

.

**_Does it show?_ **

"Of course not," he laughed, patting her silvery head. "It's been a while since I washed it. Such a chore it is." He lowered his gaze away from her, busying himself with rolling up his long sleeve. "I gotta head out soon so I thought I'd do it now."

"Really," she daintily rubbed her chin. "You've been acting weird. I wouldn't put it past you. Maybe you secretly hate me now."

"I'm sorry you're friends with a two-faced douche." Garry said with mock anger, inducing a soft giggle from the girl as she trotted away.

"I'm late. See ya."

"Please remember to return my clothes, hon."

Scarlet stopped just outside the room and turned back to him, catching his gaze. "I was gone for a year, and you're different." She said quietly, her following words completely catching him off guard. "Is it because of Ib?"

Garry just stared back at her, eyes wide, unable to voice an answer, if he could come up with any at all.

**_Does it show?_ **

The girl smiled and tilted her head in a cutesy manner. "I liked your smell when you were still smoking. Shame you quit for your little dear."

"O-oh..." he barely kept himself from stuttering, scratching his cheek. “Well, it's not exactly proper to smoke around a child."

"Nyeh, it was the only thing manly about you." Scarlet shrugged. "I'll return your clothes when you finally let me meet the little dear. Bye~" She winked and blew him a kiss before disappearing from the threshold.

"Remind me who's the mean one again!" he shouted after her.

Garry continued to wait beside the washing machine. Although Scarlet liked to act laid-back in front of everyone, himself included, she was actually very serious. He knew she would even ruin her schedule to keep up with her charade, so he just stood and listened to the sound of footsteps hurrying across the floor until he heard the front door being slammed shut. It was then that he finally left the room.

He scanned his eyes around the spacious living room, holding in a sigh. The dead silence was back, and along with it was the emptiness. Seeing Scarlet again had been a nice distraction from this tenacious feeling he'd been having as of late, but he couldn't fully ignore it in the end. Something was missing, and he was afraid to address the matter.

He was different? Being next to Ib had undoubtedly changed him, but for better or worse, he wasn't sure. Caring for her had brought him many beautiful emotions he hadn't thought was possible for him, but it also gave birth to ugly ponders. Since when had his smiles ceased to be sincere? Since when had he stopped seeing her as a child? It wasn't like this before. Things were simpler, just staying by her side was enough.

**_Just what do I want?_ **

Garry flopped down on the sofa in a torpid manner, ensconcing himself. He felt... scared.

He eyed the hourglass still perching atop of the television; the cobalt sand was draining from the upper bulb again despite him having tipped the ornament over. Scarlet must have put it up. Anyone would have. Because time was supposed to flow.

**_If only it would stop..._ **

* * *

"Anything else? How about trying out the new flavour?" Lucy said from behind the counter with a bright business smile as she handed him a bag of macaroons.

"No thanks, what kind of candy has curry flavour?" Garry answered weakly, accepting the sweets. He was still amazed by how the stylish Lucifer of the fashion department had turned in to a dull ordinary shopkeeper just because she wanted to avoid getting recognised by their friends. Girls changed so easily it was scary.

Ib... was also a girl.

He hadn't seen her for barely a week, but it felt like an eternity. He felt like an empty shell. He missed talking with her, missed her silent company. He still remembered the disappointment that had seeped from her voice over the phone as he'd turned her down time and time again.

**_The worst._ **

In a small corner of his mind was a hope that she would eventually give up, but he knew it was unlikely. He knew she cared, he knew she would persist and let his rejection eat her up for days and days on, but still he did it anyways. He was just scared to meet her, to see and hear her changes. The little girl was growing up, but he found it hard to accept the fact. Garry hated himself for that. He was never the bravest of men, but this kind of cowardice was inexcusable.

Exiting the café, Garry pulled his muffler a little higher up his face to battle the cold wind. It was getting dark. Tomorrow would soon come, and it'd be another meaningless day without her.

"Garry." an unmistakable voice called out to him just as he was about to leave, freezing him to the very core. He slowly turned around to see her standing just a few feet away; her small form so adorable in her white dress-coat. Her long chocolate fall swayed in the wind, her cheeks slightly flushed from the cold. Her face was vacant as usual, but he could see the delight glimmering in her eyes as she approached him.

**_Not good._ **

He wanted to run away.

"Oh, hi Ib. How are you?" he greeted, slightly bending down to her level. "Are you running errands for Ma again?"

"Yeah." she answered simply.

"Isn't that nice?" Garry stroked her hair, albeit reluctantly. It had always been the most natural thing for him to do, petting her small head, but somehow the action felt wrong now. Swallowing, he mindfully retracted his hand and straightened his stance.

"..." Ib stared up at him; calm burgundy irises boring into his blue ones. He could sense the hesitation hidden behind her expressionless mask. "Garry..."

"Well, now. You should hurry along." he beamed at her, taking a step back as he prepared to leave. "Get home soon so Ma wouldn't worry, kay?"

Her hand shot out and grabbed on to his; her small grasp barely encasing his fingers. The warmth from her palm sent a sudden chill along his arm, and he stopped short of snatching his hand away. His eyes wide, he looked down at her, finding himself unable to look away from her.

**_Not good._ **

Garry willed his gaze to move and ended up staring at her hand. There, he noticed something white peeking from under her sleeve.

"Aaaah!" He half-screamed, startling the little girl as he stooped down and shoved the obstructing sleeve up her arm to reveal a large bandage plastered against her pale skin. Half wanting to touch it, half not lest he hurt her, Garry settled with frantically glancing from her to the bandage and back at her. "W-what happened? Ib, how did you get this? Is it painful? How long have you got this? Who did this to you?"

"I'm okay." Ib answered. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

Garry exhaled, gently brushing his fingers over the bandage. "That's good to know." He smiled at her.

"Thanks, Garry." she replied. He could see the smile hidden behind her calm eyes, it made his heart quickened and he was reminded of the dilemma momentarily forgotten. His body fell stiff as he let go of her and slowly rose to his full height. Pretending not to notice her pleading gaze, he shook his hand free from her grip as subtly as possible. He wished he didn't have to pretend, he wished he wasn't so good at reading her emotions. She might not show it, but he could see how much his callousness was affecting her.

"That's good." he reiterated, not knowing much more to say. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat... just in case. "You should go now."

"Can't I come to your place today?" her words came unexpectedly. It was the same question she'd always asked, why was it so different now?

"... Sorry, not today, hon." He strained a smile at her, trying to salvage any fibre of her feelings. It didn't work. Ib looked so devastated that he couldn't bear to face her anymore. His smile faltered and he lowered his gaze to the ground beside him. "Not today."

**_Please..._ **

"Oh, right. I'll give you these. Just don't tell Ma or eat them before dinner, or she will get mad at me, kay?" Garry pressed the bag of macaroons into her arms, putting a finger to his lips. However, the little girl hesitated to accept the candies, only looking back at him with glazed eyes. The sight gripped at his heart.

He swallowed and brought his other hand over hers; she was so warm. Firmly wrapping her fingers around the bag, he made sure she held it to her chest.

"I gotta go now. Bye, sweetie."

**_I'm trying..._ **

He strode away, not daring to look back. The image of her hurt and confused face hovered at the front of his mind, and his determined pace falter. He wanted so much to just turn back and remedy this situation. She probably just wanted his company for a bit, and the café where they usually met up was right there. A few minutes wouldn't hurt...

He slowed to a stop, on the verge of turning around. He'd noticed, there were unbefitting dark rings under her eyes, telltale of her sleepless nights. She was having nightmares again, just like him. Ib still needed him, as he did her. However, it just wasn't the same anymore.

**_Don't make me turn back._ **

Garry balled his hands into fists and walked on.


	10. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The man left her with an empty space...so the boy filled it.

**Missing**

_"Ib~," sweet as honey was the voice that sang her name. "Oh, I~b."_

* * *

Cold. The cloudy winter afternoon gave birth to chilly breezes that prickled her cheeks pink. She shuddered, sinking her face into the warmth of her red muffler as she passed by a few students flocking together in joyous banter. A trace of flowing gold from the corner of her vision captured her attention; she turned around, eyes immediately locking onto a short figure in the middle of the small crowd. Cladded in the dark green blazer intended for the upperclassmen, the sight of the blonde girl roused a great anxiety inside Ib. She trained her eyes on the girl, growing increasingly wary. Her heart did a violent flip as the blonde suddenly spun around to face with her friend in the group, but as soon as she registered the older girl's unfamiliar face, she relaxed. There was no way it was possible. She mentally scolded herself for being so on edge.

_"I'm here~"_

Ib resumed her aimless stroll on the school ground, her calm demeanour never betraying the abnormal heart rate still booming in her ears. She tried to slow her erratic breathing as she walked, swiftly closing her eyes in discomfort. The rim of her lids stung as she stifled a yawn; the fatigue only grew. Ib wanted so much a place where she could doze off inconspicuously. Bringing her gaze to the old corridor leading to the back of the academy, she came to a stop. Despite its unsightly entrance, the garden behind the school was actually a very nice place with a beautiful carpet of green grass, innumerable vines crawling along the wall, coiling around the pillars and lush bushes of jasmine. She loved wandering there during breaks, just passing time in that little sanctuary, wondering if she could ever show Garry the peaceful sight. People barely came to the back garden, which suited her just fine; she could be free with her daydream and not be bothered by another's presence. However, that pleasant solitude now seemed so intimidating.

_Wooden frames dragging across the worn carpet, plastic hands smearing windows with messy red, metal edge screeching against the hard cement wall. Shaking and tearful, she squeezed further into the corner behind the dusty shelf as though it would erase her existence._

_"Come on out Ib," the girl crooned, tone so mellifluous it sounded insane._

A sudden nudge at her shoulder shook her back to the present and she quickly addressed the perpetrator, her mind steeled for the possibility of it being another one of her bullies. However, it was only a random upperclassman who swiftly apologized and hurried away. Before she could fully comprehend the situation, she was once again pushed from behind; this time the force sent her wobbling forward. As soon as she regained balance, she whipped around to a halfhearted sorry from a boy who then immediately darted away to continue in whatever game he was playing. Still disorientated, she took a step back, but could never complete the motion as her back had collided with another's. The other girl shot her a glare and walked on.

Maybe she shouldn't have dazed off in the middle of the school ground.

Ib let out a short breath and paced towards a large tree where traffic wasn't as hectic. To her misery, however, the air beneath the leaf canopy was considerably colder. It would have to do, she couldn't go to the back garden now that she was so spooked.

The nightmares were back, haunting her sleep. Night after night, she was jolted awake by vivid horror that gripped at her weary mind. Her parents had started giving her worried looks again, asking her what was wrong, but she only shook her head. They didn't know about the nightmares, she had never told them, and she had never screamt. She wished she did. It would be so much better to be held, to have someone to cling onto in the darkness of the night upon waking from those frightening visions.

_"Say Ib," the blonde said quietly, seated right in front of her. Gleaming azure eyes stared back at her as the other girl tilted her head in a smile. "Why him?"_

Ib went around the tree and slumped down behind it, pulling her knees to her chest. She felt so lost and helpless; as if she was nine again, memories of the terror in the gallery were fresh in her mind. No one could ever understand what she was going through, what she had gone through. Only him. He wasn't here.

These past days, she couldn't meet up with Garry at all; their afternoon outings a distant memory. "Sorry… I can't." he'd said, and that was it. No explanations, no excuses. To say it was wrong would be an understatement. He was the talkative one, he was supposed to tell her something more. She wasn't sure what she wanted to hear from him, she just wanted to hear him. She missed his voice, his laughter. She missed being with him, missed their time together, missed their proximity.

Garry felt like a stranger now; his gaze faraway, his smiles strained. It was as if a huge transparent wall had slowly built itself between them. She didn't even dare call out to him if she happened to see him on the street anymore, too afraid of being rejected again.

_"He's abandoned you, don't you see? He's tired of you." words were grated through gritted teeth, nails digging into her arms. "Should've chosen me. I promised we'd be together forever."_

She placed a hand over the nonexistent crescent marks on her arm, fighting a melancholic frown that wouldn't have shown on her stoic face.

Garry wouldn't do that... would he? She knew him, she told herself, Garry wouldn't do that. Still, a corner of her mind was plagued with doubts. She thought back to the nightmares...

"Ib!" a voice pierced through her thoughts and the world came back into focus as she lifted her head to meet with striking green eyes. She blinked, jerking her head back in a fraction of an inch. "Finally. Sheesh, you have any idea how many times I called you?"

"... Ray," she addressed the boy stooping in front of her, stuttering as she tried to adjust to reality. "H-hi… Sorry...?"

"No biggie." he waved it off with a bright smile. "So, what's up? You seem down."

"Uhm..." Ib pressed her lips together, swallowing. She urged herself to speak something, anything, but she only drew a blank. Her gaze started to drift as she twiddled her fingers; her mind a jumbled up mess in spite of her collected mien.

"You're sitting alone again," Ray stated with a curious look. "Do you not like being around others?"

Her mouth opened slightly, taking in a short breath, but then closed. She wondered where she should start, or if she should even start at all.

"Oh geez, speak up would you?" he stood up straight, clasping his hands behind his head and looked away, frowning.

"S-sorry." Ib hastily muttered, but her voice was drowned out by the noisy vicinity, never heard by the boy.

She hung her head, subconsciously tightened the hug around her legs. Once again, she had lost the chance to speak, just like many times before. Tongue-tied, then silence, and the other party lost interest in her.

She had forgotten that no one would wait for her.

"Hey, Ray. You coming?" a call from afar pulled at her attention. It was a boy whom she didn't recognize, but Ray seemed to do. Together with the thought was a pang of envy. Ray made friends so easily, even with people outside of their class. Before, Ib never cared to have friends, but being with Garry had changed that. She realized she didn't mind another's company that much, appreciated it actually. Meeting Mary in that twisted gallery, speaking with her were surprisingly refreshing experiences, even when things had soon turned sour.

The other boy quickly glanced over his shoulder and motioned for Ray to come. "Hurry up dude, it's about to start!"

Ib glanced at him as he cupped hands around his mouth. He was going to leave, she knew. Yet, a sense of disappointment still roiled within her. It was fine, she was used to it. No one would wait for her, only Garry…

"Nah, you guys go!" her head perked up at the replying shout, wide ruby orbs stared up at the boy before her.

"… You're not going?" she asked, albeit hesitantly.

Ray raised a brow at her, scratching his cheek. "Er, yeah… we're still talking, right? 'sides, they just want a rematch," he shrugged nonchalantly and added. "Talking to you is way more fun."

.

Ib could only look, stupefied.

"You wanna go to a quieter place?" the blond offered, pivoting his head to look around. "Or can we just sit here and talk about what's troubling you?"

Squatting down closely beside her, he rustled her hair. "You can tell me anything, y'know. I'll be sure to listen."

.

Déjà vu.

_"You don't have to rush, hon." he had patted her head. "I'm not going anywhere."_

A sense of familiarity.

_"Just tell me something." A kind smile, a calm soothing voice. "I'm listening."_

_._

"… Why?" she asked in a daze; memories were being overlapped without her realizing it.

_"My, because I want to hear you lovely little voice, and well…"_

"Eh, cuz you barely ever speak, but…"

Absentmindedly, yet tentatively, she listened.

"I want to know more about you."

.

The world seemingly forgotten, all she could see was his bright smile. Inside her chest, a pleasant rhythm became palpable; the heavy weight suddenly vanished, replaced with a comforting rapt. Her mind was nigh empty, her lips stretched into the faintest hint of a smile and she lifted her hand from its rest on her knee. Catching his gentle green gaze, her stomach fluttered. Undeniably, she liked him.

"… There." She pointed at the old corridor.


	11. Hollow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The feelings were stagnating...he closed his eyes and pretended not to notice.

A long stream of mahogany brown swaying from side to side, a physique so slender it roused one's protective instincts.

A body that has yet to mature, but, in a way, so elegant with a perfect poise. Flawless milky complexion similar to that of a porcelain doll. Calm, curious eyes of red thinly veiled with indifference; an adorable face that betrayed no emotions. Lightly pursed lips that ever so rarely would curve into the faintest smile. Like an ink wash painting, hers was the finest beauty.

She had her back to him, oblivious to his approach. As his body ached with desire, he reached out and took her into his arms with utmost tenderness, careful lest he hurt her small frame. The little girl tensed for a moment, but quickly relaxed into his embrace. Running a hand down her arm, he buried his face into her scented mass, breathing in deeply. His other hand on her stomach, splayed fingers spanned an area from her hipbone to the indent of her developing chests. The notion shot a surge of heat to his groin. He wanted to…

Garry bolted upright in his bed; his heart hammering painfully within. Looking into the mirror on the wall before him, he saw his reflection staring back with the same appalled expression. His eyes fell onto the pile of unfinished assignments lay scattered on his messy blanket as his mind slowly adjusted. He had dozed off while working… right? He couldn't seem to recall clearly. He gazed out the large window wall, registering the pitch black garden outside, wondering for how long he had been sleeping. Something was off, but he couldn't quite wrap his head around it. He propped an arm behind him for support and combed his matte mauve hair away from his eyes. Something was entirely off. He wiped his face and exhaled, grimacing at the pressure inside his chest.

It was hot… hard.

He clicked his tongue. In a quick motion, he pushed the wrinkled papers aside and kicked off the heavy blanket.

.

His mussed head soaked with the freezing water cascading down his naked body, he sucked in a shaky breath and placed his hands against the wall in front of him, hanging his head. In the dead of the night, the sound of the shower was disturbingly loud; it was all that he could hear apart from his quickening heartbeats. He clenched his teeth, barely keeping himself from shivering, but he didn't care. He had to cool down.

The extreme coldness was mind-numbing, distracting him from the now meaningless thoughts swirling in his head. The skin on his back was beginning to hurt; his breath came as short gasps and his lungs contracted. Unable to take it anymore, he slammed at the tab and turned the shower off. He slit open his eyes and looked down at his feet, at the glazed dark tiles, as water trickled from his nose and chin. Staring at his vague reflection on the burnished marble below with hooded lids, he tried to organize his mind only to find it was empty, disturbingly so. He couldn't seem to think, everything somehow felt surreal.

He shook his head and grabbed the large towel hung on the wall behind him, quickly drying his thin body as the cold air seemed to prickle all the way down to his bones. Slowly getting used to the frigid temperature, he pushed the transparent glass door open and he stepped out of the shower. His eyes were trained on the clothing left in a heap on beside the sink as he took long, hurried strides towards it. Garry tossed the towel onto the ceramic basin and started to get dressed. He thrust his arms through the long sleeves of his black turtleneck and hastily moved on to the baggy trousers.

Properly clothed, he picked up the towel and continued to dry his damp hair. His whole torso was shuddering now, but he ignored it. Pausing for a mere moment, Garry finally acknowledged himself in the lavatory mirror. An empty gaze behind his roofing locks, a foreign dour expression distorting his face; uncharacteristic grimness pervaded the air around him. Just what had happened? He brought out his hand and reached to touch the cold surface, almost cautiously. As he outlined the stranger's chin, an inexplicable weight roiled within him. He retracted his hand and let it drop by his side, quickly moving his gaze away from the unsightly reflection.

Watching him leave, the _reflection_ smirked.

 

* * *

Garry entered the dark, spacious living room, immediately switching on the light to shoo away the unsettling shadows. It was so quiet. Everything was so still that he could have believed time had stopped in its track. At the thought, his eyes unwittingly searched for the hourglass that resided in the room. The ornament was quickly located still standing atop the television where he'd left it. A sudden sense of ire shot past his mind, and he strode up to the sandglass to…

.

His pace faltered and his eyes went wide as they saw what was before him. The cobalt sand was… _wasn't_ flowing, despite most being collected in the upper bulb. He blinked a few times, expecting to see the usual blue string threading through the glass neck, but it never did. Before he could understand what was going on, he saw movement out of the corner of his vision and turned his head. The towel slipped from his hand as his grip had gone loose. His eyes became even wider; his mouth fell open in an attempt to speak, yet couldn't utter a sound.

The figure nonchalantly walked up to the hourglass before the disbelieving gaze of its owner and picked it up with the tips of his fingers. Steely blue hues regarded the shocked inhabitant as the man carelessly dangled the ornament in his grasp.

Garry could hear his heartbeat growing vivid.

"Hey," a startlingly familiar voice hummed in its deep yet effeminate tone, sending chills down his spine, "are you really fine with just this?"

 

* * *

The loud honking sound of a car as it swooshed past him brought the world back into focus. He blinked laconically and glanced around him. The cold morning street was as busy as usual, teeming with people, buzzing with noises. He stood at the corner of the intersection, waiting for the red light to turn amongst a crowd of people. Somehow, there was a hazy feeling that he didn't belong, that he was the odd one out. Shifting his stance, he adjusted the strap of his bag so that it rested more comfortably across his chest as he let out a short yawn in the form of a sigh. He pulled at the tattered collar of his worn coat, clicking his tongue at how he'd forgotten his scarf in this chilly weather. Out of boredom, his fingers started picking at a strand of lint inside the left pocket of his jeans. Everywhere he looked seemed like a dirt clogged background, dull and insipid. He blamed his lethargy; he blamed the nightmares that had brought on his lethargy. Garry rubbed his nose and sniffed once; his eyes drifting. Last night was especially unnerving; every single detail was still ingrained in his mind. Someone told him dreams were just mere conjuration of the mind, but after that, he was inclined to believe otherwise.

**_Just what was that?_ **

Suddenly prodded by the shoulder, Garry turned his head to see middle-aged man pushing past him without so much as a glance in his direction. He realized that everyone was moving forward. Without bothering to check the traffic lights, he promptly followed the crowd to the other side of the street.

No matter how much he tried to act normal, Garry knew that his life right now was messed up, because she wasn't here. But… by her side, it was also messed up.

Thinking of the intoxicating dreams… _nightmares,_ his jaw hardened. The kind of guy that looked at her with such indecent eyes was not fit to stay beside her. He told himself it was fine, that he had simply returned to the life before that fateful day at the gallery… but it wasn't. Now that he'd come to know her, had experienced her kindness, there was no way he could go on pretending she didn't exist.

" _Aren't you just sick?" lips twisted sideways into a grin as they susurrated. "In the mind? Just accept it."_

Garry stopped in his track. He was _not_ a pedoph-

His train of thoughts was broken as he felt something slammed into his leg. He immediately turned to face the subject in question to find a pair of frightened dark eyes looking up at him. It was a little girl, hugging a rather large paper bag. The moment their eyes met, the bag slipped from her arms and spilled its content onto the pavement.

"I-I'm sorry," the little girl whimpered as she hastily stooped down to gather the grocery.

"No… it's okay," the reply came after a moment of delay as he tried to fix his glare. Holding back a groan, he bent down to help her, "lem...me… help with that."

Garry discreetly glanced up to observe the dark-haired girl through his shaggy bang. She looked to be of Ib's age, possibly even younger. The thought made his stomach churn, and he fixated his gaze onto the strewn items. He'd thought after being around Ib so often had fixed his problem, but apparently, it hadn't. Two years ago, there was another reason why he had freaked out upon seeing her. Because she was a child. To say he was bad with children would be an understatement. He was extremely uncomfortable around them, afraid of them even. Ib had become a special exception, and he thanked the heaven for that.

Grabbing the last piece of the scattered grocery, a bottle of milk, Garry straightened up and offered it to the girl, whose demeanour was full of reluctance. He strained a reassuring smile at her, wanting nothing but to leave the scene as soon as possible. There was just no way he was-

"You pedophile," the milk bottle was suddenly snatched from his grip. A young boy, with similar features to the little girl, got between them; his demeanour glaring, "what are you trying with my sister?"

.

Garry's smile was frozen as he watched the boy turn to his sibling to take the grocery bag from her.

"T-that was rude of you," the young girl exclaimed softly, "he was only helping me…"

"Yeah right," the boy snorted, shifting the bag onto one arm, and grabbed her hand with his free one, "let's go."

Led away by her brother, the little girl craned to look over her shoulder and gave Garry an apologetic nod before disappearing into the morning crowd.

.

He closed his eyes for a moment, still reeling from the impact of the brat's words. Where had the kid even learnt that word? His heart picking up a faster pace from a swift rush of ire, he breathed deeply. Kids these days…

Garry resumed his trek, swiftly glancing at the watch on his wrist. He frowned. He was late for his first class. It wasn't entirely a big problem since the class was outside of his major; however, being late still bothered him. After leaving home, or getting kicked out of it, he'd always strived to be as diligent as possible to keep a good record. Yet… everything seemed meaningless right now. He didn't feel like rushing to the university, didn't feel like going there at all.

He strolled along the street; his eyes searching - for what, he didn't know. But actually, he did. Ib. She wasn't here. Garry slowed, looking down at his right hand.

**_Empty…_ **

He clenched the hand and brought his gaze about. Right on this street, at this very spot, was the place where they had reunited. She had found him. Her little hand had encased his; he still remembered how warm it was against his cold fingers. Teeth grinding, he lowered his head. Keep it up, he was doing great. These memories, these feelings… seal them up. Cast them away.

Forget everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Rant:  
> Garry's current status: a pedophobic pedophile? A pedophilic pedophobe? People use the word pedophile too loosely nowadays.
> 
> I'm also sorry I have such a bratty character in my OC database. You'll prolly never see him again.


	12. Seeking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he forced himself to forget...the feeling only intensified.

Garry took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and reopened them as he exhaled. It was so quiet. His ears picked up a few sets of muffled footsteps on the carpeted floor, but he paid no mind to them. Taking of his coat and throwing it onto the ladder chair next to the aisle, he lazily set his eyes onto the mount of books cradled inside a large plastic basket beside his leg. A transparent feeling of discontentment was feeding his already foul mood, and he silently clicked his tongue. He bent down to grab a few books on top of the pile and brought them up to his eye level, glancing through their titles.

Shifting all of the books onto one arm, he walked along the aisle, his gaze searching the shelf to his right. He ran his fingers across the various spines on the row and stopped at one book. His eyes narrowed in annoyance and he pried it from the line-up. Pushing an appropriate addition into the gap, he moved on to another shelf.

The one time he'd ever been late to class, an uptight old prick just had to stand in for his easygoing professor. As if standing through the four-hour lecture wasn't enough, he was now stuck with this cumbersome task. To say it was irritating would be an understatement; Garry was downright pissed off. As there was a huge gap between his two classes today, he had hoped to get some rest to make up for last night. There was no chance for that now.

He sullenly returned to the basket after emptying his hands and grabbed some more books. This was nothing hard or complicated – he only needed to place the books back where they belonged; however, the process was far too tedious and time-consuming for his liking. His legs were tired and his lower back was killing him from having stood for so long. Was this middle school or something? Standing through a class was the lamest punishment ever created. How anyone could consider further distracting pupils from the lesson a good idea was beyond him.

Garry frowned as he wordlessly rubbed the back of his neck. He hated being in this state. Although there wasn't anything on his schedule for the next five hours, he was somehow restless and irked. He wanted to be done with this chore, but if he thought about it, there really was no reason to make haste. Sure, he was worn out, but he wasn't particularly anticipating the short nap he'd intended to take in the infirmary. A nightmare would just sabotage it anyway. The next class was supposed to be his favorite, yet he didn't feel the least bit of zeal for it. People looked forward to going home after class, but not him. There was no one – nothing waiting at his home; it wasn't even his, wasn't even a home. Tomorrow would only be another unpleasant encore.

Had life always been this dull?

He was brought back to reality by a clattering sound. Realizing he had stopped, Garry hurriedly resumed his task – not without giving a swift glance at the source of the noise. Two guys were taking a seat at a nearby table. Realizing them to be from his department, a sort of reservation sparked in a corner of his mind. They didn't seem to notice him standing between shelves, so he promptly took the basket and walked further into the aisle to save some useless pleasantries.

.

Garry cracked his neck, stifling a sigh. Such a dreary job; although there was no use complaining to himself. He suppressed a groan as heaved the next stack of books.

Grimm's.

Garry subconsciously tilted his head as he observed the book on top of the pile. A soft pain nudged at his heart.

_**Strange…** _

The maroon jacket wasn't overly impressive, donned with simple gilded lines along its leather. A sketchy drawing depicting a typical fairytale sat in the middle of the cover; it was the reason for his sudden interest in the book. The faceless, brunette girl was cladded in red and white, carrying a straw basket, watched by a certain dark figure behind the bushes. For whatever reason, it reminded him of Ib. He wanted to see her so bad.

_**I really have it bad… huh…** _

He brought his gaze away for a moment. Swapping the book to the bottom of the stack, he resumed his pace. He had to forget.

" _But being forgotten is..."_

His stomach churned, causing Garry to grimace. Unconsciously, his hold on the books tightened. He had to forget. After he'd forgotten, he could see her again. So, forget. How did one do that? Pretend nothing had ever happened, go back to being like before… _How?_ What was before like?

"Ah damn," a voice exclaimed softly, gaining his attention. One of the guys from before was getting up from his seat; in his hand a crumpled cigarette pack. "I'm heading out."

.

_**Before…?** _

.

"You barely got half of it done dude," the other guy said, flipping through his friend's work. "You're never gonna finish it."

"Shut up, that's my problem."

Shoving the books onto the nearest shelf, he swallowed.

"Hey~" with a smile, Garry approached the duo.

* * *

_Two years ago…_

Garry sat on the narrow edge of the small windowsill in this rundown apartment that he shared with two others, staring out to the indolent afternoon city – at least, what little glimpse of the city that could be seen from a second-storey room overshadowed by most of the buildings surrounding it. With his knee bent, he rested an arm on it; a lit cigarette held loosely between his long fingers, smoking lazily. The summer air was hot and humid. Even in tank top and shorts, he was still tempted to turn on the rusty fan in the corner; however, neither he nor his roommates had any intention of increasing their bills for this month.

As the doorbell sounded and broke the idle silence, he glanced back inside the room that was cramped from housing three full grown males and their messy tendencies.

"Must be the landlord," his dark-haired roommate said with a mouthful of food, standing up. "I'll get it," the guy quickly slurped down the remaining broth of his ramen and chucked the empty cup into the steadily growing pile of discarded containers in a corner. Normally, Garry would tell that slob off. He wasn't the most organized person, but he was definitely the most organized one inhabiting this apartment room, and he demanded a certain degree of tidiness. However, he was far too tired for that now; they could turn the place into a pigsty for all he cared.

Garry returned his gaze outside before closing his eyes and taking a long drag of his stick. Eyes still closed, he blew the smoke out through the corner of his mouth so that the wind outside could sweep it away. It had been two weeks since he and Ib had parted at the gallery, since the nightmare inside the gallery had been put to an end – or so he'd thought. The horror had never truly stopped. The next few days, he had been in a state of constant paranoia, jumping at the slightest sound his roommates caused. Darkness did more than just scaring him and the smell of crayons from the brat next door had left him petrified.

However, those were nothing compared to the nightmares plaguing his sleep. Deranged. Detrimental. Relentless. Haunting. More than once, he'd bolted upright under his restricting blanket, frantically ransacking his body for a certain thorny stem. One night, it had even taken a punch from his roommates to fully snap him out of his panic. He was getting better at dealing with the nightmares, but a good night sleep still eluded him. He was tired both physically and mentally.

Suddenly, the concrete that his back was leaning against shifted slightly, almost as if it was a living matter. His eyes shot open just in time to see a plethora of black arms reaching out from behind him. The brusque limbs enclosed around him in a blink of an eye, clamping down his entire torso. Without fully comprehending the situation, he tried bending forward to escape the vice-like grips. Two hands immediately slapped at his face, pulling his head back against the hard surface behind. Heart beating wildly inside his chest and legs flailing uselessly, he raised his unrestrained hands in a puny attempt to pry the inorganic fingers from his mouth and eyes. Through the cracks of the inhuman grip, he could see the wall opposite of him morphed and split.

His eyes went wide.

From within the unsightly crevice came a monstrous blue hand. It slammed down on the floor, wrinkled brown nails clawing at the dull wood beneath. Then another hand burst through the warped cement together with an ugly doll head. Behind an unruly mane of hair, traumatizing red eyes bored at him as the hideous face neared his, hovering over him. Its mouth loosely stitched, the doll grinned down at him, letting dark red liquid ooze through the dirty threads. Heavy beads dripped onto him, slowly coating him in the fetid slime. He wanted to scream in terror, but his voice was stuck inside his throat. The jagged blue lips spread further apart despite the stitches; the gap was just right for his head to pass through-

Garry jerked awake, opening his eyes to the mold-covered wall at his feet. His heartbeats were in chaos as he darted his gaze around in confusion. He was still sitting on the windowsill; the cigarette, which he was sure had been dropped, still in his shaky hold.

"Oi, oi. Garret, di' ya just doze off there?" the blond roommate, who was lying on the floor with a magazine in hands, commented, "that's dangerous."

Garry gave a sort of a grunt and lowered his gaze, puffing shallowly at his cancer stick.

"Still freaked out 'bout whatever ghost shi' ya saw in the cinema? Ya really no' cut out for horror heh?"

His brows drew together, but he said nothing about it. _Went to a horror movie_ was what he'd told them as explanation. There was no way he could tell the truth after one would ever understand. Only her.

Garry stabbed a hand though his knotted lavender mop in frustration. She had given him her contact info on the back of a gallery leaflet; the crumpled piece of paper hadn't been read since he'd left it in one of his books. He feared he would want to come running to her. Well, _of course_ he wanted to, he just _couldn't_. Not in this miserable state, not when he was so damn pathetic. He wanted to come to her for the sake of their promise, not to whine about how miserable he was.

He kept telling himself that twisted world wasn't really all that scary, but it wasn't working. That cursed place was _terrifying_. A sigh escaped his lips as he snuffed his cigarette on the wall just below him and tossed it into the nearly overflowing trashcan. He wouldn't be surprised if Ib had already put everything behind her. She was a strong child.

_**But…** _

But she _wasn't_ … Garry swung his legs down from the windowsill and sat up straight.

"W-wha's wrong?" his roommate asked, gaining no attention from him.

Eyes fixing intensely on the stack of books on his side of the shelf, his hands began to itch. He could just be making up excuses but… she could be needing him right now. Hadn't he learnt that as unaffected as Ib may act, she was still just a child? Ib might also be suffering from nightmares just as he was. He was barely able to live properly, what about her?

Garry got to his feet and quickly strode up to the shelf. Taking out a book with a worn cover, he quickly surfed through the pages.

.

His heart stopped as he reached the end of the pages. He blinked, not quite believing it. He went through the pages again, an ugly churn building up in the pit of his stomach. The folds of blue that he'd left somewhere between the pages were nowhere to be seen. He dropped the book to the desk and picked up another, going through it in the same manner as the last. No leaflet. He swallowed. His movement frantic, he skimmed through his thick notes. No ugly crayfish. Garry slammed the books back into the shelf, eyes dilated. No way to contact- No. He shook his head, trying to calm down.

"Evan, dear?" he turned to the boy lying sprawled on the floor of questionable cleanness.

"Yeah?" the blond dropped the magazine to his chest and craned his neck to look at Garry. "What?"

Keeping a rigid smile on his face, Garry asked with a slightly shaken voice. "Did you see any blue leaflet on the desk?"

"Eh, leaflet?" Evan raised an eyebrow as he sat up. "I doona think so…"

"Blue crayfish?" Garry offered.

A look of recognition that flashed through the blond's face lit a small hope in his mind. "Aah, tha' wrinkled slip… I think I threw it away last week," that hope was crushed in the cruelest way imaginable as his roommate gave him an uneasy grin. He crossed the gap between them in less than second and took a handful of Evan's shirt, yanking the guy to his knees.

"You… did what, dear?" Garry asked with his smile still, but his voice breaking.

Evan meekly raised his hands, stuttering, "i-it fell out when I borrowed your book for a bit and, well, it looked like junk so I-"

His words were interrupted by a strong punch that sent him backward.

.

Garry sat on the floor, fingers drumming. He rested his other arm on his bent knee, chewing the tip of his thumb in irritation as he kept his eyes on the wall to his right; his cheek swollen and his lower lip cracked. Tasting the salty iron on his tongue, his scowl deepened.

Just next to him was a sullen Evan, whose face was red with newly blooming bruises.

"Have you two calmed down?" his other roommate stood before them both, arms folded, "I don't care what happened but apologize to each other."

There was a short moment of silence before a throaty cough could be heard. "… Garret, sorry 'kay?"

Garry glanced at the blond, trying to keep his anger at bay.

"I dinna know."

"Yes," he grated pointedly, "you have no fucking idea." Not meeting anyone's gaze, he stood up and headed for their bedroom.

"C'mon bud, it's just a-"

"It's not!" Garry shouted over his shoulder, his tone devoid of any femininity – which visibly stunned the other boys. A part of him was shocked at himself, but he was far too worked up to care. Shaking his head once, he gave them a dismissive wave. "Just… leave me alone."

Closing the door behind his back, he leant against it. Slowly, his knees caved and he slid to the floor. His mind was almost blank. Ib's contact information was gone. Of course before putting the leaflet away, Garry had looked over it. However, the chain of nightmares had already wiped his memory clean; he couldn't even remember if the street name started with an M or N. He couldn't believe this was actually happening. Garry brought his hands to his face, slowly shoving his fingers into his hair. He was so mad at Evan, but ultimately, he was mad at himself. Had he gone to her two weeks ago, this wouldn't have happened. There was no way to see her now, and he had no one but himself to blame.

* * *

A slick black car pulled into the empty street of an expensive neighborhood, gliding pass a lone figure cladded in a tattered black coat – the clothing obviously unbefitting the high class district. However, being out of place didn't keep the young man from scouring the area the past two months. He knew she was somewhere in this neighborhood, had been thrilled to find out it was closer to his place than he'd anticipated; the only problem was that it was far too large. Just wandering aimlessly around didn't seem to be working, but he couldn't do anything more. The first day when he had braved ringing bells from every house in sight, it had nearly earned him a night behind bars for being the suspicious individual that he wasn't.

He stopped and looked up to the dimming blue sky. Another day was coming to an end, another search turned up fruitless. Garry stifled a sigh and headed down the street leading away from the neighborhood.

.

It slowly became more crowded as he neared the complex where he lived. He didn't feel like returning just yet, so he headed into town. In a way, he wanted to prolong his time outside. Summer break was almost over and the new semester was around the corner. Schoolwork would mean less time for him to search, and by God, he already didn't have enough.

Garry never stopped wondering if Ib was safe and sound, if she was truly home with her parents. A tiny voice in his head kept whispering that their promise of reunion had been nothing more than a dream, and that she was still stuck in the demented gallery. He knew it was a load of bull, but that didn't help ease his mind. Somewhere in this city was Ib, but where exactly, he hadn't a clue. It aggravated him to no end.

The evening was considerably dark now, as he walked the familiar pavement. Without himself realizing it, his feet had brought him along the streets he usually took to the university.

He was so tired. He put all his free time into searching, but his efforts weren't yielding any result; the nightmares weren't helping. It has already been two months, was it alright for him to keep holding onto this promise? Children were… forgetful little creature, painfully so. He wondered if Ib had already forgotten about him. Even the closest of friends could drift apart after losing touch, what could he expect from a friendship formed within hours? Maybe he should give up, maybe he should've given up the moment he had learnt about the leaflet, or lack thereof. Maybe he was the only one trying to make this volatile connection something special, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to let go.

Suddenly, he felt a pull at the tail of his coat, a surprisingly strong one that made him stop in his tracks. So rudely yanked from his thoughts, he spun around, determined to give the perpetrator a piece of his nasty mood.

Round, wine-coloured eyes stared back at him.

 


	13. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reuniting with her... his heart clamored.

"I-Ib…?" his lips shakily parted to form the choked word- no, name.

For two months, her name had been occupying his mind day and night, but never really spoken. It felt… good, now that the name finally rang his vocal cord.

Was this really her? Not just some illusion his weary mind conjured up to appease his yearning? Garry held his breath as he absentmindedly raised a hand to her small face, testing the smooth texture of her cheek with the back of his gaunt fingers – cautiously, as though she would disappear into thin air with one wrong move. He brushed her long locks behind her ear to get a better view of her adorable face, his eyes never leaving hers.

The streetlamps slowly became brighter to compensate for the late evening's lack of light, revealing more of her refined features. Small lips, cute little nose; long lashes that failed to hide her exquisite burgundy gaze. Her slightly raised brows gave way to a vulnerable expression, a fragility he knew she hid well, or tried to. As cliché as it may sound, it felt like an eternity they spent just staring at each other, observing, gauging one another – believing what they were seeing.

"Ib!" a womanly voice called, breaking him from his trance. He snatched his hand back and perked up in the direction of the voice, picking out a familiar woman in a brownish shirtdress amongst crowded street. Her face was a picture of concern dashed with relief. "Thank goodness, there you are. What are you bothering that young man for?" she asked with a hint of frustration as she approached them.

His eyes still on the older woman, Garry was suddenly tackled by the waist.

"Ah…! Ib!" she exclaimed in shocked, quickly crossing the remaining distance to him. "W-what are you doing!"

_**Soft…** _

He looked down.

Ib had her face buried in his taut stomach, clinging onto him; her petite frame trembling against his. Garry placed a hand onto the small of her back, blankly registering the embrace, the way her frail arms wrapped around him so tightly.

It was just like back in the gallery.

_**Creak.** _

"I-Ib, let go of him!" her mother was greatly troubled, seemingly at a loss of what to do. "I'm so sorry about this, young man," she said; her words, however, were barely heard.

_**Creak.** _

"… N-no, it's… it's quite alright…" Garry replied, his voice cracking as he tried to keep himself coherent. Noticing the questioning look on the young mother's face, he met her gaze with a weak smile. "It's no trouble I-" his voice was stuck in his throat, and he realized his emotions were stagnating also. His facial muscles were failing. Feeling the sorry excuse of a smile on his face falter, he quickly broke his unfocused stare from the older woman's.

_**Creak. Creak.** _

His vision glazed over; he bit his bottom lip, but it wasn't enough to stop a lone droplet from escaping the corner of his eye and trickling down along his nose. The hand that wasn't busy pressing against Ib's back shot up to wipe the tear away.

Another fell, and yet another, and yet another. Soon, the tears were unstoppable, rolling down his cheeks in abundance, completely unrestraint.

It wasn't in his nature to cry. He was one to easily show his emotions, but crying he absolutely wouldn't do. Crying was for kids – helpless creatures that he was glad to have grown from. There was no reason to cry. Ib was here. They met. His only wish for the past two months came true; there was nothing to cry about.

There was nothing wrong with crying either.

Garry stopped trying to hide his tears and lowered his head, bending his tall frame over Ib as he carefully enveloped her in his arms.

He probably should say something to the parent most likely stunned just before him. He probably should be conscious about the curious gazes around them, probably shouldn't have hugged her back or started crying. There was probably no need to get this emotional and probably a dozen more problems he should be aware of, but he really couldn't care less. He was just so glad, so relieved. Ib was here. Right here. He'd finally found his little companion in a twisted dimension that didn't exist to the rest of the world.

"… I'm sorry," he finally managed to croak. "I'm so sorry, Ib… I'm sorry…"

He kept muttering his apologies like a broken record, with sniffs and sobs in between. He was unsure whether Ib heard him or not, but he went on anyway.

At last, they were able to meet.

* * *

"Um, would you like to come to our house for some tea?" was the hesitant invitation Alysha had given the strange youth whom her daughter simply refused to let go off.

She gave her driver a few words and promptly exited the car, her eyes immediately training on the mauve-haired young man standing at the side, Ib cradled his arms. Her little girl was fast asleep, having dozed off during their ride home, yet still stubbornly held on to the boy's coat.

This whole chain of events was still boggling her mind. She had only taken Ib to city center in hope it would cheer the child up. Suddenly, Ib had sprinted away and, when she'd finally caught up to the girl, tackled a random stranger on the street. Her child, who always shied from any form of contact with anyone not closely acquainted, was hugging some scruffy, shady-looking teenager. As if that hadn't been shocking enough, the boy had then burst into tears and enfolded her like a long lost sister.

Her car slowly pulled off and sped down the family's private driveway.

"Sorry to trouble you," she smiled, her shrewd eyes assessing the boy. It seemed he had calmed down, although still a tad shaken for some unknown reason. She hadn't gotten to ask anything during the ride, but soon she would make sense of this.

"O-oh no, I don't mind at all, ma'am," the boy tilted his head and replied in a… cutesy… effeminate… kind of way. Because he had stayed quiet the entire time, except for the few whispers exchanged with her daughter, she had never realized his… _peculiar_ … characteristic. The surprised must have shown on her face, as the boy then coughed awkwardly. "I- er, ahem, I mean… I'm sorry," he managed with a normal tone.

"… No, _I'm_ sorry," Alysha amended, pulling the straps of her handbag up her arm. She then motioned to a narrow set of stairs that curved through the greenery, leading up the hill behind him, "Shall we head inside?"

Garry watched the older woman ascend the lamp-lit stone steps, his face burning. He didn't recall being this embarrassed about his own conduct when he first started… 'being a sissy,' in his friends' words. In the past two months, he had occasionally thought about how to present himself in front of Ib's parents. Surely, acting like a weirdo would not score him points with adults, especially when it concerned their nine year old daughter. He'd screwed up from the very beginning.

One mistake after another. Garry hoped he hadn't completely destroyed any chance of getting accepted by her parents.

Glancing down at Ib, he felt something inside him melt. She seemed so small and delicate in her loose fitting shirt and shorts. A small smile crept up his face as he tucked Ib closer to him. Somehow, it felt like everything would be okay.

.

.

As the cobbles grated under his feet, he observed the intricate lamps placed along the large steps. The late evening was quiet and he could hear the crickets sing vividly. Staring down at where the car had dropped them off, he thought him reuniting with Ib was something short of a miracle. This place was so secluded from the neighborhood he was convinced he wouldn't be able to find it even with the address.

Had Ib not caught up to him… He shook his head, not wanting to dwell on pointless what-ifs. Ib found him, that was all that mattered.

Upon seeing the Lowell's mansion, Garry had to do his best not to fall backward. He was stunned by its sheer size and expensive design of wood, marble and glass. The mansion was so grand that it might just be possible to get lost inside. Despite that, it seemed to make a lovely home. The light from inside the house leaked out through the ivory shreds of curtain, warm and inviting. All around the property was a lush garden illuminated by the same lamps that were placed along the stone stairway, and he could hear the sound of a fountain somewhere amongst the trees. He had expected Ib to be of a rich household, and everything was predictable, from the slick car to the chauffeur, until he laid eyes on this building that screamed money louder than a lottery jackpot.

He meekly followed the woman on the gravel path that cut through the neatly cut grass bed, feeling as though he was marching to death's door. Garry had never really considered how serious the situation could be when meeting Ib's parent. He had planned to prepare for this meeting, and goddamn he would have had that bastard Evan not thrown Ib's address away. He had no idea what to do now. There was really nothing he could say to explain his relationship with Ib, and he was damn sure her mother wanted to know every detail. The same should go for her father. If he slipped up, there might be no hope of seeing Ib in the future.

Before they reached the glassed front door, he could see a blurry figure right behind it and only became more uneasy. The door opened inward and a man dressed in a formal suit, whom he vaguely recognized as Ib's father, stepped out.

"Lysh? Aren't you back early," Nathan said as he fixed the button on his cuff. His eyes then fell onto the foreign figure standing just behind his wife, quickly noticing the nine year old snoozing in said figure's arms. "Oh, and who's this?" he asked with a smile as the queer young man with the purple hair visibly stiffened under his gaze.

"Well, this is…" his wife's voice trailed, and she turned to the boy. "That's right, how careless of me. I never caught your name."

"I'm G-Garry, ma'am… sir," the boy quickly added, slightly bowing his head at him.

"Garry, is it? I'm Alysha, and this is my husband Nathan Lowell," tilting her head in a polite gesture, Alysha turned back to him, "We happened to meet on the streets and Garry here seems to know Ib. I thought it'd be nice for us to get to know each other, so I invited him over for tea."

"Oh?"

"I… Ib and I met at the Guertena exhibition… few months back," Garry hastily explained; however, as soon as he saw Mrs. Lowell's incredulous look, he inwardly winced. Because meeting at some estrange artist's exhibition _totally_ begged for a tearful reunion.

"I see," the man nodded, eyes still on him.

Being scrutinized was never pleasant, especially when he knew he was being sized up. Garry's smile was rigid on his face now, and the corners of his mouth were starting to hurt. He felt immensely pressured as he tried to read the man's expression, wondering if it was because of him carrying Ib. Obviously he couldn't let her mother carry her, but he had a feeling he shouldn't be doing it either. Papa was probably determining whether or not this suspicious fellow should be touching Papa's little girl at all.

Before he could say anything more, Ib stirred a little in his arms and snuggled closer to him.

.

He gulped, cold sweats gathering on the back of his neck.

Papa took out his phone, a very expensive-looking model, if Garry might add. "Excuse me a moment," he said and tapped onto the touchscreen before bringing the device to his ear. There was a short pause before he started, "Hey, Sid. … Ah, it's most unfortunate but I don't think I can make it to your party tonight. … My sincere apologies, maybe we could have dinner some time in the future. … That is a great idea! Well now, if you'd excuse me. … You too, friend. Give my best regards to your wife."

The man gave a hearty laugh before disconnecting the call.

"Is that alright?" Ib's mother asked.

"Oh, it's fine."

Garry squirmed in place when the man drew near.

"Garry, was it? Thank you very much for carrying Ib," Mr. Lowell said as he held out his arms. "You must be tired, let me help."

"Y-yes sir," Garry fumbled, carefully shifting Ib to her father before letting go.

.

Both men froze, wide-eyed as they stared at the little girl between them.

"Oh dear," Alysha cupped a hand to her cheek.

Ib's grip on his coat and shirt remained firm, making it impossible for her father to take her away. Silence ensued, and by no means was it comfortable. Garry tried to pull his clothes from Ib's small hand, but it proved to be futile. It didn't seem like she was going to let go at all, unless they woke her. And he knew for a fact no one would have the heart to rouse her from such a peaceful state.

"… I-I'm sorry, sir," he apologized, his voice weaker than he'd intended it to be.

"No, no. I should apologize for troubling you, young man," Mr. Lowell gave Garry a smile and handed his daughter back. He then stepped to a side and placed a hand onto the teen's back, the other gestured to the opened front door. "How rude of me to keep a guest standing, let us all head inside and sit down."

"It's alright, sir…" Garry said feebly.

"After you."

Ah, he wanted to cry.

 


	14. Tolerance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were willing to put their trust in him... little did he know he would soon betray that trust.

Upon crossing the blackwood threshold, Garry saw that the burnished marble surface below him was quick to end at the foot of an elevated wooden floor. His eyes immediately fell onto the few pairs of heels placed just to the side and understood that he was going to have to take of his shoes. He glanced down at the little girl in his arms and shifted her so that he would have a more comfortable grip on her.

He watched as the married couple took of theirs, before timidly wriggling himself out of his own, trying to make the action as polite as it could possibly be. He was a tad thankful that his old shoes had always been easy to slip off.

Placing his bare foot onto the cool wooden floor, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief. Thankfully, because he'd had all of his socks washed, he didn't wear any today. His toes were successfully poking a hole through them.

The corridor abruptly led to the right, and Garry mindfully drifted back behind the house owners, letting them lead the way. As they walked, the wall to his left slowly made a nice transition to pristine glass that revealed a courtyard garden whose beauty was simply breathtaking, leaving him in awe.

.

The living room could have been taken right out of a real estate magazine. Stylish black stone walls, coupled with the ivory shade of the ceiling and warm lighting, gave a comfortable sense of homeliness as he stared out the frameless windows into the night garden outside. The clear glass table had a fragile yet durable quality to it, complementing the stout cinnamon-coloured sofa just nearby.

When he was invited to take a seat on those beautiful mattresses that seemed like they had never been sat upon, Garry could only bring himself to sit at their very edge, putting most of his weight onto his legs. It wasn't easy with Ib snoozing away in his lap; still, he managed not to slip from his seat.

Ib's father was... quite a complicate individual. He was quiet – Garry could certainly see whose child Ib was – and had an easygoing air to him, all the while still giving off the feeling that he shouldn't be crossed. Crow's feet from many years of stress were beginning to etch onto his features, giving him a shrewd appearance that Garry was sure extended beyond his skin. His dark eyes and muddy brown hair seemingly dulled any edges he might have had, but Garry believed they were still there.

As Ib's mother set down the porcelain teacups and seated herself next to her husband on the other side of the table, he could tell that the interrogation was beginning and unconsciously put up walls in his head. Much to his surprise and relief, they only asked about simple things like his age and schooling. The Lowells were very amiable, and the friendly atmosphere helped Garry relax to the point that he could admit to having been disowned by his family, albeit ruefully. They both seemed shocked; the wife outwardly displaying her disapproval and the husband nodding his head slowly in a sort of musing.

Nathan crossed his legs and leant back on the sofa, eyes studying the young man before him. The kid didn't seem like a bad company to have, modest and well-mannered – and actually quite fun to watch, he added with a note of humour in his head as the boy squirmed nervously. He was most impressed with the lad's resolution to follow his own dream despite the cost, and getting disowned at the fresh age of eighteen was a large cost. Being a business man, he didn't find fashion too favourable a career choice, but to abandon their own child because of it was just preposterous.

However, a dirt poor university student approaching his, a rich man's, nine year old daughter, he couldn't say he was too comfortable with that.

Garry surreptitiously adjusted Ib to a more snuggly position – but not _too_ snuggly – wondering if he'd been wrong to have confessed that wretched episode of his life. The air had now gone heavy and no one spoke a word. The parents asked the questions and he simply answered was how the conversation went on. Now that they both seemed to be contemplating something – most likely concerning him, or specifically him – he didn't know what to say, or if he should saying anything at all.

"So, Mr. Wolfe," the man broke the silence that had formed in the room. Bending forward to rest his elbows on his knees, he continued. "My wife and I are both wondering how exactly you came to be acquainted to our little Ib. Can you tell us the story?"

"Yes, I'd very much like to hear it," his wife said, inching slightly closer as though anticipating gossip.

Garry gulped, heart skipping a beat. Here it was, the talk he so dreaded. "W-well, in the… Guertena exhibit… we… met…" he said lamely.

Behind his smiling countenance, Nathan kept a keen gaze on the boy's reaction. This direction of the conversation had clearly thrown the teen off his seat of comfort. As opposed to his honest attitude with the questions earlier, the boy was now jumpy and fidgeting, even suspiciously avoiding eye-contact.

"So we've heard," Nathan said with a small chuckle. "But we'd love to hear more details about our daughter's encounter. It's such a rare thing for her, you see."

Garry smoothed his lips into a thin line, looking down at Ib. In a way, he wished she would wake up to help him – her wits had never failed to surprise him.

If he thought about it…

" _Hm, what is it, little miss?" he'd asked when he'd seen Ib stare intensely at a painting with a cacophony of colors. Maybe it had been because she was the only human around at the time, and he was so glad that he wasn't alone, that Garry didn't feel too uncomfortable being with a child._

" _This painting…" she said cryptically, not sparing him one single glance._

_Then again, maybe it was because she didn't act like a child._

"… _Yeah? Abstract Art," he read the title offhandedly. "What about it?"_

_The little girl turned to him, her face betraying no emotions, yet her eyes somehow had a different light in them. "Ab…stract?" she pronounced hesitantly._

"… _Hm? You don't know that word?" Garry asked in a bit of confusion, then it dawned on him and he said with a smile, the kind that he thought would appeal to kids. "Ah, you want to know the title? It's 'Abstract Art,' dear."_

_She raised her brows slightly, which he suspected was her way of nodding, and turned back to the painting. The silence stretched as she kept staring at the title beneath the painting, which he again suspected was her memorizing the word, until he couldn't take it anymore and cleared his throat, "Will that be all?"_

_A bit more silence, then she suddenly spoke, "Which means…?"_

" _H-hm?" Garry stuttered, titling his head. Ib broke her gaze from the artwork and stared up at him, showing no intention of repeating herself. Seriously, this kid…_

" _Er… what it means?" he scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… well, basically… it means… art that is… abstract…"_

_At the kid's dull expression, he felt like an incompetent idiot. "Yeah, well… anyway!" he clapped his hands together loudly. "I'll gladly help with anything you can't read," he promised in an attempt to sound more capable._

_Ib's eyes then might as well have lit up. She had led him along the corridor, into a grand room with huge statues and… a lady in red roaming about…_

What happened next had been them desperately fleeing from the monstrosity, but Ib, being the curious little dear she was, had refused to leave the scene until he'd read to her every single word she hadn't known in that room. It was certainly a frightening experience, but now as he looked back on the memory, he realized it actually had a comical side. A small laughter escaped his lips, and he brought a hand up to his mouth. The two parents regarded him with questioning, albeit surprised looks, so he did his best to contain himself. "Ah, sorry sir, ma'am… Well…" he inadvertently paused, shoulders trembling before continuing. "… Ib was having trouble reading a painting's name so I offered to help her. Then one artwork led to another… I think we might've seen everything in the gallery," even ones that weren't supposed to be seen, he thought with a shudder.

Nathan could only blink at the boy, trying to decipher the meaning behind his sudden and questionable amusement. The kid was becoming increasingly suspicious – problems with emotional stability, perhaps – but strangely enough, it wasn't in a bad way, didn't feel like such.

His daughter stirred, gaining everyone's attention. They all watched closely as her brows drew together – he believed she was more expressive asleep than awake. She rubbed her eye a few times, before drifting back to her dreams.

A smile crept up on his face as he continued watching his little girl, then the boy, who gently ran fingers through her bang endearingly. There was small a part of him that bristled at the stranger touching his child, but seeing the little angel so peacefully at sleep, he melted.

He turned to his wife – her smiling back at him with a soft look.

The lad wasn't bad company.

"Seems like she finally let go," he commented.

It was Garry's turn to blink, his eyes tearing away from Ib to look up at her father, only to drop back down to her. She really had let go of his shirt, leaving a noticeable crease on the fabric. "A-ah, yes…"

"Sorry to have troubled you," Mr. Lowell rose from his seat and walked around the table. "I'll take her to her room now."

"I-it's no trouble, sir," Garry hastily got to his feet also, gently handing Ib to the older man.

He just stood and watched as Ib was carried further into the home, until the father and daughter disappeared behind a corner. Honestly, he didn't want her to leave his side. He wanted her near to reassure him that this was no dream – well, to be fair meeting her parents was enough of a reality check, but… her presence was simply… reassurance.

It couldn't be helped.

Garry sat back down, stifling a sigh. His gaze remained down as he reached for the tea that had gone lukewarm before him, having nothing better to do. He hadn't had the chance to take a single sip, with Ib having occupied his arms, but he still remembered how soothing a fragrance the tea had when a brush of smoke was still coiling up from it.

It was delicious as he'd thought.

"Mr. Wolfe."

His head perked up at the sound of his name. "Ah… yes, ma'am? And please, just call me Garry," he insisted.

"Oh, sorry," Mrs. Lowell giggled, putting her fingers to her lips. "You should stop with 'ma'am,' then. It gets me all formal."

"Eh… then…"

"Alysha would be nice."

"A… lysha…?" he mumbled reluctantly, receiving an approving hum from the older woman as she took a sip of her own tea.

Garry patiently waited. They both said nothing.

She sat in a posture that exuded grace. Her ruby eyes were partly shadowed by long lashes as she placed the near empty cup down onto its plate. Her gaze lowered in a sort of meditation, she daintily twirled a finger into her thick auburn hair that stretched past her shoulder blades. It was obvious whom Ib got most of her traits from. He could see the beauty Ib would grow up to be looking at the woman before him.

Brow raised in confusion, he wondered why Mrs. Lowell hadn't said anything despite addressing him earlier. Still, he kept silent.

"You didn't tell us everything," she suddenly said without looking at him. Her voice wasn't accusing; it was calm and neutral, as though she had made an offhanded comment. "In fact, I don't think you told us anything."

Mrs. Lowell didn't say anything after that, and he didn't either.

"You're not going to explain yourself?" she asked, training her eyes on him.

Garry leant forward. Fingers knitting together, he hesitated, "I don't know… I felt that there was a but."

The woman gave a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "There is," she admitted, letting a frown form on her features. "… Ib hasn't been sleeping properly. She keeps getting these nightmares every time she closes her eyes."

His eyes widened and he slowly straightened up. Grabbing a handful of his hair, he bit back a curse. Ib had been suffering these past two months, just like him… just as he had feared. He could feel the bile rising in his throat, but he kept his tone normal. "B-but, she was sleeping fine just now," he defended – what and from what, he wasn't sure.

"Exactly," she closed her eyes in a pensive manner.

"Eh?"

"I haven't a clue about your relationship with our Ib. You're hiding something and not even hiding that you are. But she slept in your arms, so serenely it felt like her nightmares were just my own imagination," the woman shrugged with her arms folded, and Garry could hear the hysteria seeping through her composure. "I know what I saw, Garry. I saw her quiver under her blanket at night. Somehow, she manages to keep her voice down despite waking with a jerk. She sleeps with the lights on even though she was fine without them before. I saw my daughter run. She only ever does that in school, when I promise her omelets as prize. I saw her cling to you. She rarely ever hugs us… Then I saw you. You cried and embraced her… and, young man, you would be with a few officers by now if it hadn't been for those tears."

Upon hearing that, Garry stiffened and consciously sat upright. He could tell that Mrs. Lowell didn't mean any menace – it actually sounded more like a stern scolding – but that didn't erase the fact that he'd almost spent a night behind bars.

"If you really met in the exhibit, it was only 2 hours. I can't think of any reason why such a secluded child would be so familiar with someone whose age is so far apart from hers in that short amount of time. I have a myriad of things I want to demand answers for, but…" the mother exhaled, her smile returning. "She sleeps so peacefully, I find myself not caring any more than that…"

Garry found himself at a loss for words; a sense of gratitude and accomplishment filled him. He'd gotten accepted… at least he thought so. He wasn't quite 'there', but he dared to believe he was going to be allowed to exist in Ib's life.

"I think Nate is thinking the same thing," the woman added.

Garry nodded dumbly. "I'm sorry, ma- Alysha," he muttered, shuffling his foot. "I wouldn't know what to tell you."

"The truth, perhaps?"

"It'll sound like a lie…"

"You're not a liar."

He chuckled wryly, rubbing the back of his neck. By making it a statement, she put pressure on him rather than meaning it as a praise. "I don't even want to remember," he admitted, much to the woman's confusion. "I think Ib is also trying to forget. I hope you haven't pursued this topic with her."

"We haven't. She tries to hide it from us, thinking we don't know," Mrs. Lowell sighed, sinking into her seat. "We respected her effort and decided to wait until she comes to us, but it's getting hard."

His heart sank at the information. Ib had been suffering alone, and he wasn't there. All because he hesitated. "I-I'm sorry," he said under his breath, his head hung in chagrin. He knew there was no point in crying over spilt milk, but he couldn't get over the fact that things could have been so much better if he hadn't been such a chicken and just come to her.

Garry lifted his gaze to the older woman, but before he could say anything more, a plaintive cry pierced through the silence in the house.


	15. Unforgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he tried to forget... his memories only became more vivid.

He hurriedly strode after the young mother through several rooms and up a curved staircase. He wished she would run - he would make a mad dash had he know where to head - but alas her shirtdress limited her movements.

The mansion seemed so quiet now, unsettlingly so with only the sound of their feet tapping softly against the floor. An ugly impatience roiled within him as his mind conjured up the worst scenarios possible, and he found himself working his jaw.

They turned around a corner. At the end of the dark corridor was a lone room, light seeping through its opened door. That was no doubt where Ib was. He inwardly groaned, keeping himself from darting past Mrs. Lowell to check up on the little girl. They soon arrived in front of the room, just not soon enough for him, and the fact that he couldn't just barge inside only served to further aggravate him.

The mother gave him a look before entering the room, which was understandable. It didn't mean Garry had to like it. Left outside and only being able to see what little part of the room revealed by the half-opened door, he resisted the urge to peek inside. Just by standing here, he probably had already crossed the line.

He could vaguely make out small whispers from her father, telling her it was all fine, and her mother, asking her what was wrong, but he couldn't hear her. Seconds ticked by slowly as he strained his ears. The parents sounded calm enough. He was glad, but at the same time, restless. Why wasn't she saying anything?

* * *

The room was her own, organised and brightly lit; her bed was soft and the familiar scent of her mattress occasionally tickled her nose. She curled her small, shaking fingers, scrunching the thin fabric of her sky blue blanket. Her mother had gathered her into gentle arms, and soothing voice questioned her without demanding answers. Her father sat to her right, his big hand giving her back slow, firm strokes, and she was afraid her loud heart would be felt.

Ib stared out the wide window wall at the foot of her bed, barely registering the darkness outside.

It was so scary. She remembered shaking free of brutal black arms, but she had never once gotten caught back then. She remembered hugging creepy blue dolls, but that wasn't right because she had only ever ran away from them in the toy box. Then she remembered leaving a soundly sleeping Garry in a starry corridor, and, with growing horror, recalled following a trail of blue petals. Mary had played loves me, loves me not; a lone stem rolled between her fingers, but that couldn't have been right because... she'd burnt Mary... and escaped together with Garry.

But then, had he really escaped with her? She remembered his promise to come see her very soon, but had it really happen? He still hadn't shown up. Oh, but she was sure she had found him amongst the crowd. But that wasn't right either, because it seemed she had been sleeping in her bed and wouldn't have been able to find him in the streets.

Had she even met him in that twisted gallery?

It had been so real. The nightmare had left her memory a mess. Her parents were worried - she didn't want them to worry. She told herself to calm down but it didn't work.

"Oh my baby," Alysha crooned, tightening her embrace around the child in hope it would ease her shaking, "tell me what's wrong."

She didn't expect to hear a reply, but then her daughter surprised her.

"... The paintings... chasing me, a-and the arms... Then Mary... rose... Garry... petals on the ground," Ib's broken whispering made her brow rise as she tried to comprehend the story behind it. She exchanged a look with her husband, who seemed to share her confusion. To sum it up, Ib had dreamt of being chased, and somehow Garry and a Mary were involved. It didn't make any sense, but then again dreams, or in this case, nightmares weren't supposed to make sense.

"It's okay Ib," Nathan carefully patted their daughter, not quite used to the act of consoling. "Whatever they are, they're not real. You don't have to be afraid."

Ib seemed to shrink even further. Her little girl shifted in her arms, hesitant ruby eyes looked up to hers. "Ma... Where's Garry?"

The look on Ib's face was almost begging her not to deliver a bad news. The child was on the verge of tears. She held in a sigh and looked at her husband.

Nathan gave her a wry nod before getting to his feet and heading for the door.

* * *

They stepped outside of the room. Or to be more precise, his wife made him.

"Lysh, are you serious?" he asked in a whispered tone, disbelieving. The boy was a decent fellow, but he wasn't going to leave his daughter alone with him just yet.

"Leave them, Nate," his wife said with a rare stern voice, tightening her grip on his sleeve as though he would storm back inside any moment. "The boy was clearly uneasy with you burning holes into his back, and that upset Ib. It was going no where."

Burning holes? He was merely watching.

Nathan gave her a huff and loosened the tie around his neck. He had been so occupied by the sudden appearance of the boy that he'd forgotten how stuffy his suit was.

A hand in his pocket, he tilted his head to look through the threshold. The boy was on his knees, and Ib was hugging him, head nuzzling in the crook of his neck. He had decided that the boy wasn't bad, but after hearing that 'Garry' was involved in his little girl's nightmare, there were things to be reconsidered.

Granted, he'd raised a smart daughter. She wouldn't cling to a man who would bring her harm, but this entire situation didn't sit well with him.

"I want to try trusting him," Alysha muttered as she crossed her arms, a faraway look in her eyes. "This is the first time I've seen her so persistent about something. Plus, you've seen what he could do by merely entering the room."

He lowered his gaze, recalling how happy his daughter had been when she had taken notice of the young man next to him. Her face hadn't shown it, but her eyes had said it all. Glad, relieved, and even thankful.

Ib was only nine, and already she was drifting away from them.

"I don't get their relationship," he grunted, dismaying at the thought.

"Me neither, but I think we'll have to wait until either of them is comfortable enough to tell us," she shrugged. "The most important thing now is that Ib have her sleep. He's promised to put her in bed. Let's take his words for now."

* * *

"Ib, let's get you tucked in now," Garry rigidly removed her arms from around his neck, doing his best not to be too forceful. "I heard, you haven't been sleeping properly?"

Ib wore a sulky look, giving him a swift nod. To be honest, it was hardly any different from her usual expressionless face, but he was becoming an expert at reading her mood.

He brushed his thumb under her eye and couldn't hide a frown as he took note of the dark rings staining her pale skin. How could he have not noticed them before? This... was his fault. She was in this state because of him.

He didn't think he was some sort of special existence that would've been able to shoo her hauntings away, but he did know that his absence had made them worse.

"Now that's not good," he chided, unconsciously slipping back to his feminine habits. "I understand the nightmares are scary, but remember that the gallery is far away now, it can't hurt us anymore," pausing, he gave her hand a squeeze. "Go to bed for me?"

She slightly pursed her lips, eyes looking anywhere but him. He waited. Although the position was further hurting his knee, which he believed was forming a bad bruise after having been rammed into the table back in the living room, he didn't mind at all.

He didn't remember ever being this patient with anyone else.

Finally, she spoke. "Only if you promise to stay."

His smile froze. "Um, Ib. That's... er..." he took a furtive glance over his shoulder. To his surprise, the doorway was empty. The parents that he had expected to be keeping an eye on him weren't there, leaving him blinking. They were actually willing to trust him to this extent? He was perplexed, but also relieved. It was considerably easier to breathe now.

He turned back to Ib and ran his fingers through her short bang. "... Alright, anything for you, hon," he said after a bit of hesitation.

* * *

_Maybe it was then... that these feelings started..._

* * *

"You better sleep real tight now that Garry's here to watch over you, dear," he said in a mock warning tone.

Ib was comfortably snuggling against her pillow, blanket pulled all the way to her neck, while Garry sat on the floor, his back leaning against the side of her bed. One arm reaching back, he held onto her small hand.

She was silent, but he knew she had heard him. Traversing the gallery with Ib, he had learnt not to expect a reply to everything he said. There was also a possibility that she was already drifting back into sleep.

It still felt like a dream, being here with her. In the past months, he'd stayed hopeful, just not too much. Occasionally, he had toyed with the idea of giving up searching. He was glad he never acted on it.

He bent his leg for a place to rest his free arm, shuffling in place to find a comfortable position for himself. After he was satisfied, Garry tilted his head and rested it onto her bed.

Her room was a quiet little space. He'd forgotten how quiet a bedroom should be, living in the rundown apartment just a few steps away from a construction site. To his right was a large window that stretched from floor to ceiling; its patterned curtain was drawn to the side, presenting him with a beautiful view of the city light from afar. Across from his left was a hollow white shelf, stacked with books of various size and stuff animals.

The walls here were painted an ivory white, with several spontaneous strokes of rich brown. A few strips of glossy stains were visible on the lower part of the walls, indicating that things had been taped there and then taken off. The slanted ceiling above was installed with a stylised light bulb.

It was then that he felt a tug on his hand.

"Hm? What is it, Ib?" he asked, turning his head to meet her burgundy gaze. "Oh, is it too bright? Should I turn off the light for you?"

Ib shook her head once and rolled to her side, never letting go of his hand. She then pulled at his fingers to press them against her cheek. "I don't like the dark, it reminds me of Mary's room... before I..."

Her sentence was left hanging, and the room was once again thrown into silence.

He hadn't really thought about it, but it was apparent what happened had scarred Ib's innocent mind. Taking away a life, even a fabricated one, must have been a great burden for her. If only he had been the one to have lit the fire...

Garry turned fully to her, carefully untangling his hand from hers in away that wouldn't upset her, and caressed the smooth of her cheek with his thumb. Brows slightly drew together, he began, "Ib, I know it's hard, but you gotta stop beating yourself up over this. There was nothing you could have done different. Mary was out of control, and I thought I was done. You saved my life... again."

Ib sank her face into her pillow, avoiding his eyes.

"Hey, hey, Ib. Look at me," he slipped his hand under her head, gently guiding her gaze back to him. "I'm still alive because of you. Know that I'm very thankful that you did what you did. Please don't feel too bad about it, okay sweetheart?"

Her eyes slightly glazed over, and she nodded slowly.

"Good girl," he touched his forehead with hers, supporting himself off her bed by his elbow. "Forget about Mary, just close your eyes and-"

"No."

"Huh?" Garry moved his head back, staring down at her. Her eyes were full of resolute.

"I won't forget," she said sullenly, gaze lowered. "I can't forget. You can't either."

"... Ib honey," he recovered from the initial shock and started. "... A... L-ook, I-I know you feel bad and all, but... Stop it. Just stop, Ib. It's fine if you forget. Don't hurt over it anymore."

"... She always appears in my nightmares," the little girl whimpered, curling up.

Garry gritted his teeth. He was angry, but not at Ib. That damned painting, haunting her even in its demise. "Put them behind you, Ib," he grated. "Your nightmares aren't real. They don't mean anything. Forget about Mary."

Ib didn't reply for a while. She seemed to be processing something in her head.

Finally, she rolled onto her back and looked up at him.

"But being forgotten is sad."

.

His eyes widened.

"Forgetting is a horrible thing to do," Ib mumbled, gaze drifting away. "She's crying. She'll keep crying..."

Garry flopped back down onto the floor, stunned.

Crying?

He remembered now, the scribbled diary hidden in a corner of the cremated girl's room. She might've been a painting for dozens of years, as twisted as the gallery that housed her, but in the end, Mary was just a child, lonely and lost.

At some point, he'd stopped considering her human out of spite, but Ib was different. He hadn't spent enough time with the impish blonde to care, but Ib had.

As understanding slowly crept up on him, so did a sense of awe. Why was she so... thoughtful?

No. Not thoughtful. Kind.

Truly a gentle child.

_**So beautiful...** _

He craned up to place a soft kiss on her forehead. Pulling back, he smiled down at her flustered look. "... Sorry, Ib," he murmured. "I shouldn't have said those things. You're right, let's remember her."

"Let's not forget," he repeated.

.

"Sleep tight now, Ib."

* * *

He stood behind the library building, relishing the ephemeral warmth delivered by the late morning sun. A steel cold mechanism in his right hand, he flipped the cap open and flicked the rusty wheel. Instantly, a blue-cored flame sprung to life, and he brought it to the stick readied between his lips.

Familiarity kicked in, and he absentmindedly followed a buried habit. Covering the lighter from chilly wind, he took a few puffs as the fire licked away the tip of his cigarette.

It wasn't a brand he was used to, having a stronger smell, but at least the heat and smoke brought him back. Back to a time when 'she' wasn't there.

He closed the lighter and pocketed it.

Taking a long drag, he leant back against the dirty brick wall behind and let the chemicals burn his lungs, before releasing them into the atmosphere.

This was a slow time for his university, but the few people that happened to pass by his spot didn't spare him or his smoking a single glance. Even those whose faces seemed to scrunch up at the smell only sped up without moving their eyes away from their works.

"Garry?" a voice suddenly pulled him from his daydream.

He looked to his left to see his friend, Lucy, standing with arms folded. She was a head shorter than him, but her presence was as oppressing as always.

"Oh, Lucy dear," he grinned, faking his cheeriness. "Cold day, eh? Heading to one thirty-nine?"

"Why are you smoking?" she demanded, completely ignoring his greeting.

Garry's smile disintegrated for a mere second as he lowered the cancer stick to his side. He then gave her a humourless chuckle, "... no reason, reall-"

"Didn't you quit already? For the little girl?"

"Well..."

Before he could come up with something to say, Lucy had snatched the cigarette from between his fingers and doused it onto the wall next to him. Throwing it into a bin nearby, she turned back to him, "I don't know what your problem is but don't just go back to smoking. That stuff kills."

He didn't have anything to say back to her.

He must've made some kind of face. He wasn't sure what, but her scowl softened and she asked. "Is your mouth er... lonely? I heard that's the deal with smokers."

His eyes became dark as he lowered them. He ran his tongue over the inside of his teeth and swallowed. "Kind of," was his curt, but weak answer.

Lucy started rummaging through her belongings. He found it funny. The girl could pick out stuff from other people's bags with uncanny accuracy, but could never locate things in her own.

At last, she took out a small cube wrapped in red. Strawberry candy it seemed. She carelessly tore off the plastic and pressed the sweet against his mouth. "Eat this instead," she said it as an order.

He stared at her, and she at him, unwavering. Hesitantly, he parted his lips and let the candy enter his mouth - the sour taste immediately stimulating his tongue.

"Take care of yourself now," Lucy pinched his cheek - hard, and it hurt like hell. As soon as she let go, his hand shot up to cover the semi-swollen skin protectively.

"Gotta run, see ya."

Garry watched as the girl sprinted away. When she was out of sight, he went back to leaning against the wall.

.

He pushed the candy around in his mouth, sucking on his now fruit-flavoured saliva.

_**Impatient.** _

Trapping the candy between his teeth, he started gnawing on it.

_**Not enough.** _

He hardened his jaw and soon crushed the candy to pieces. Looking away from nothing in particular, he swallowed the jagged fragments.

"It's not fucking enough."

* * *

_You know... forgetting is horrible..._

_._

_._

_._

_But lusting after a child is even more so._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Rant: People, we are BACK! Finally! Present sweet present.


	16. Hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Building up the walls... he hid himself from the world.

" _Aw man, Garry, you got the last one," the girl had said, pouting at the sweet in his hand. "I really wanted a pudding."_

_Every Tuesday, dessert for lunch at his elementary school was either cupcake or the very popular kiwi pudding. Everyone in his classed looked forward to the pudding, although there was never enough for them all._

"… _You can have it you'd like," he had offered, smiling._

He was a 'nice' guy.

" _E-eh, it's alright…" she had refused, but her eyes had lingered on the pudding. "It's my fault for being slow."_

_And it was his fault for being nice._

" _Don't worry," he had laughed, pressing the sweet into her hand. "I'm full anyways."_

" _Thanks… you're very nice!"_

He was a nice guy because he indulged others, rather than himself.

" _Mom, about the fair…" he had said upon finding his mother in the kitchen._

" _Oh, that…" she had the oven's fire down and turned to him. Before she could say another word, the boiler to the side started hissing, screaming for attention. "Gosh!" the woman hurriedly washed her hands and ran to the kettle. "Look, sorry Garry. Your father is having guests over, so I'm a bit tied up. I can't take you today. Maybe tomorrow?"_

_But that day was the last day of the fair._

_He rubbed the back of his head in frustration, messing up his short haircut. As soon as his mother looked back at him, he smiled as though he didn't mind. "… Nah, I just wanted to tell you I didn't want to go anymore. Do you want me to help with cooking?"_

" _Pleased!" she had beamed, clasping her hands together. "Such a dear you are. Always so nice!"_

He wasn't a nice guy though.

" _Oh shit. Sorry dude," the guy had said apologetically, picking up his pen. "Why are you even using something like a fountain pen?"_

_The fountain pen his late grandma had given him when he graduated middle school, its tip was painfully bent. He winced from the jolt of pain in his chest as his heart rate increased._

_._

" _Oh my God, my poor boy!" the woman had screamed at the top of her lungs, encasing her son protectively - the boy hugging his side, seemingly in great suffering. "What did you do to him, you brute!"_

_He stayed silent, hiding his gaze behind his dark bang. His hands stay limped by his sides; they were numbed and didn't feel like his. His knuckles were still burning from the punches he'd thrown, and he didn't dare to move a finger. He faked apathy, but his heart thundered within. What if he became a murderer?_

" _Mr. Wolfe, just what were you thinking?" his teacher asked in a thick voice, looking at him disapprovingly._

_What he was thinking? He didn't think, only acted. Blinded by rage, was it? He had never felt so scared before._

Every time he let his emotions take the rein, something was bound to go wrong.

" _You hear me, Garret!" his father had bellowed, cradling a broken right hand. "Don't ever come back to this house! Don't ever let me see you again!"_

_He should've felt something other than a sense of satisfaction, but looking at the many designs torn in half, everything felt justified. He'd stormed out of the house, turning his back on that place of his childhood without a shred of regret._

Regret was all he felt now.

That was why he always strived to limit his feelings. Powerful emotions were only a bother. Hold it back, brush it off, laugh it all away. He would be fine with it as long as others would be also. Self-indulgence wasn't allowed. The more something concerned him, the less he thought about it. The more he cared, the less he talked about it. The more important it was, the more he disregarded it. He lived his life biting the bullet. He glossed over 'himself' and focused on what others wanted. Helpful and easygoing; he was a nice guy.

" _No shit? That was when she dumped you?" his friend had asked in shock._

" _Yeah, well, she liked someone else," he shrugged._

" _You actually let that slide?" the guy had a look of disbelief. "You're too nice, should've kicked up more of a fuss."_

" _What's the point?" he had asked._

The things he loved kept slipping away from him, but it wasn't a big deal. 'I don't love them that much anyway,' he would tell himself, and everyone was happy like that.

.

" _It's nice to not have to think."_

_._

Then she had come along.

She was everything he wasn't.

She had trouble expressing herself, while he expressed himself too well. She worked hard to show, while he only wanted to conceal. She had no friends for being herself, while he killed 'himself' to gain friends.

He would help, but unless the situation called for it, he would never extend his hand on his own accord. She, however, was glad to help in any way she could.

She was pure and true, while he was the exact opposite.

She was beautiful in both body and soul. He liked her, truly liked her. He did things for her, not because it was expected of him, but because he honestly wanted to. By her side, he was both 'himself' and 'a nice guy'; by her side, he could feel good about himself. He was less miserable of a person where she was concerned.

That… spoilt him. He started to indulge himself more, started to want more. The ugly selfish side of him was coming back, stronger than ever. Never before had he wanted anything so bad. He tried to put his feelings off as friendship, a brotherly love, and it was working so well… yet all it took was her childish crush to tip everything off balance. An immature jealousy so tenacious he couldn't even pass it as overprotective concern, and he was sure he was a master at deceiving himself.

He didn't want to feel any more than this. He didn't want to change the nature of their relationship.

It was time to bury his feelings again.

* * *

Garry poured an excessive amount of condensed milk onto the black layer of coffee grains, before filling his cup with scalding hot water. He took a teaspoon and started stirring. As the resistance at the bottom quickly melted away, a sweet fragrance started to fill the air in his kitchen. He took a sniff, then a deep contented breath, waiting for the drink to turn a mouthwatering brown.

This Saturday was especially peaceful. The weather was very nice considering it was quite late into the winter. There was no school, and no homework. The midterm was over, giving him a nice, relaxing short break he thought himself well-deserved.

The aromatic warmth wafted against his face as he brought the cup to his lips and blew gently. Taking a sip, he relished the rich taste of coffee – against an overwhelming ratio of sweetener. So he had a childish taste, he didn't care. He loved his coffee sweet.

"Oooh, smells nice!" a hand guided his cup away from him.

Had he said 'peaceful?' Well, he'd lied a bit.

Scarlet casually took a large gulp from his drink. Her eyes widened momentarily before scrunching up as she pulled back abruptly. The girl struggled to swallow, her head swinging from side to side and hand fanning herself.

.

"Oh gosh, hot!" she spat, making a face. "Sweet!"

"Well, _excuse_ _me_ for letting you drink _my_ coffee," he quipped.

This girl had suddenly shown up on his doorstep last night, drunk and crying. He could've been convinced her whole world had just fallen apart. After they had woken this morning, however, they just went about as usual, as though nothing had happened. She didn't say anything, so he didn't pry. She seemed to be in high spirits – that was good, even if faked, because at least she had the mental strength to do so.

Garry scowled at what was left of his coffee, then at the girl who was rummaging through his fridge. She was wearing his clothes again; the shirt sagging on her shoulder, while the jeans threatening to slip from her waist. He just had to question if she would be like this in anyone's home.

"Ugh, my head hurts," she complained, taking out milk and a few eggs from the fridge. "I'll make breakfast. Fetch me the medicine in my bag?"

He took a sip from the cup and placed it down. "It's past noon though," he said before crossing the threshold.

"Doesn't stop me from having breakfast!" she shouted after him.

She always had to have to last say.

Garry walked into the living room, shuddering at a sudden change of temperature. He shrunk into his jacket and thrust his hands into its pockets. The living room was so much colder than the small space of the kitchen, which he loved in the summer and absolutely despised in the winter. He just didn't do well with the cold, yet everyone else seemed to thrive and rejoice in it.

His eyes settled onto the hourglass that now stood on the table. A month had passed, and watching the ornament had become a bad habit he needed to get rid of. He would daze off watching the stream of cobalt silently flow until the upper bulb was emptied, only to flip it around and continue his pointless observation. Many times, he'd intended to throw the hourglass out, but he never did. He realized he actually liked watching the sand flow; time seemed to ooze by when he did, but before he knew it, hours had past.

Weird? Well, he'd never thought himself normal.

He strolled to the sofa set and grabbed the backpack left ajar on its smooth cushion. As he fiddled with the zipper, Scarlet suddenly came running out from the kitchen.

"Oh shite, Garry, don't-" he swiftly opened the bag with a simple pull. "Open… my bag…"

"Give me that!" she charged at him, but before the bag was snatched away from him, he had already caught a glimpse of what was inside.

The girl surreptitiously squeezed her bag shut, but not before fishing out a bottle crinkling with pills. She smiled brightly at him, and he crossed his arms, smiling just as brightly back at her.

"Scarl-"

"Oh right, Garbear, the eggs and bread are done!" she chimed and hastily spun on her heels. "Let's go eat!"

She was fast, but he was faster, grabbing her by the head and keeping her in place. "I thought you said you didn't have them with you, Scarlet dear?"

"Well, I told you the condition for giving them back already," she pouted, twiddling her fingers. "You said you met up with the little girl pretty often, yet I never seem to catch her with you no matter how many times I come by!"

He gritted his teeth at her comment. Whatever face he was making right now, he was glad Scarlet couldn't see it.

Noticing the weird pause, the girl attempted to looked over her shoulder, "Garbear-"

"I don't care!" he quickly said, tightening his grip on her head and earning a yelp from her. "I never agreed to your stupid conditions, give me back my clothes!"

* * *

He didn't understand why Scarlet was so interested in Ib, but she probably wouldn't be able to see the kid for a while longer, at least not with him.

Ib. That name felt so foreign to him now. He had stopped calling her, stopped meeting with her, stopped having anything to do with her under the guise of being busy. He would love to believe Ib would be fine even if he was giving her the cold shoulder, but that would be looking down on her feelings for him. She loved him a lot, he knew, just not the kind of love he needed now.

Simply holding hands was too bland and innocent kisses on the cheek no longer cut it. He wanted something closer, hotter… wetter. He simply wanted more.

Like this was for the best.

This was the lesser evil.

Sitting on the couch, Garry clicked his tongue and spun the hourglass in an impatient clip. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he last saw her, but it probably hadn't been long enough. 'Just a little bit longer,' he would tell himself, but no matter how long he waited, it never felt enough. He still remembered, still… ached. These feelings weren't going away. There was an irrational yearning that he'd grown weary of denying, and soon, erasing.

He violently punched the mattress next to him and shot to his feet. He needed to do something to get him off his mind. It was too quiet.

" _Stingy! You have a whole wardrobe of these!" she had exclaimed, holding the bag away from his reach._

" _Like you don't!"_

" _Well, no one's stopping you from borrowing any of mine!"_

_"They're. Girls. Clothes," he'd grated each word._

__"And I'm sporting menswear! Does it look like I have a problem?"_ _

A wry chuckle escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. He might complain whenever Scarlet intruded, but honestly he appreciated every moment of her presence. Which was why he never opened his mouth to tell her to leave and why he hated her for having left swiftly after their awfully late breakfast. He wanted her to stay with him a little more; he just wanted someone to be there, anyone would do.

He looked around the room, trying hard to think of something to do, but soon gave up. He didn't want to do anything. Slowly sitting back down, he pulled his legs to his chest and hugged them there; his fingers started playing with the black hem of his pajamas pants that he had yet to change out of. Resting his face on his arm, he absentmindedly watched the hourglass at work with hooded lids.

.

"Garry~" strong hands gently placed themselves onto his shoulders as lukewarm breaths tickled his ear. "She's coming~" his voice whispered in a playful hum.

It was that guy again. _He_ kept pestering him ever since that night, just lurking around the space between dream and reality, showing up as _he_ pleased, saying whatever _he_ liked. He really hated _him._

"What is it now," he muttered, groggily looking up from his arms.

Red. A beautiful red entered his vision. He could never find eyes of a more exquisite color.

Ib stood before him, with all her adorable grace and charm. Such a precious existence.

Was this another prank from that bastard, or had the time for him to crack finally come?

_**I really don't care anymore.** _

He lifted a hesitant hand to her face, caressing her soft cheek in a sort of awe. His fingers found her ear and carefully traced down to her jaw, guiding the little girl towards him. The feel of her skin was so mollifying and addictive, leaving him fantasizing about its taste. His mouth watered at the thought.

He snaked an arm behind her back and drew her nearer. She was so small, so fragile, and he barely kept himself from suddenly crushing her against his chest. Her scent was simply intoxicating. He was unable to look away, completely and utterly captivated. Brushing his thumb over her dainty pair of lips, he swallowed almost hungrily.

"G-Garry?"

.

He blinked, coming face to face with the subject of his dream – or so he thought. She appeared flustered in his arms…

In his arms.

.

"Hyeeeeeekkk!" Garry shrieked, backing away from her in a hurry and ultimately falling over the couch's arm. His head met the hard floor with a loud thunk that would leave anyone wincing upon hearing.

"G-Garry! Are you okay?"

No, he was not.


	17. Awoken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She needed him... he was blind to that.

He lay on his back, his legs draping at an awkward angle over the fat arm of the couch. His head ringing and his hearing partially numbed, he might as well pass out right then and there, but alas, the soft vibration along the wooden floor kept his every nerve conscious and alerted. She was here. Somehow, she was here, in his place. The haphazard manner in which his heart was jumping around only worsened when a face he'd been longing for entered his field of vision. Clear ruby eyes peered down at him, causing him to gulp involuntarily. For one long month, that doll face had been haunting his mind.

She squatted down beside him, a look of concern in her eyes. "Garry, does it hurt?"

His spine bulged against the hard floor as he craned to lift his torso. Pain stung the back of his head, making him scowl and hiss. He brought a hand to the burning bump and carefully rubbed it in hope to ease the sore. Sometimes, he just wished he carried better composure.

"… Yeah," he muttered with gritted teeth, the bone at his elbow grating on the floor as he pushed himself out of the uncomfortable position, and more importantly, away from her.

Garry kept his gaze elsewhere but her in order to prepare himself, yet as soon as he looked at her, actually looked at her, he unconsciously held his breath in admiration. He was convinced his memory could never fully capture her naïve charm. She had no doubt been dressed up by her mother's fashionable sense. Worn over the silky mass of her hair was a white ski hat with tails styled just so they resembled drooping rabbit ears. She looked so damn cute. Together with the ivory-white hoodie over her turtleneck she was no different from an adorable bunny, just begging to be picked up and squeezed. Actually, fuck that. He just wanted to strip her of everything and ravage that innocent flesh underneath.

How he yearned to just drag her onto his bed and teach her the fun of love and bodily pleasure. Many times, he had stroked himself, imagining it was her young hands running up and down his length, her body naked… his seeds stringing down her fair skin.

"Garry?" oblivious to his desires, she tilted her head.

He snapped out of his daydream, inwardly cursing. This was really not the time to be distracted with such thoughts. "... Can't say it doesn't hurt," he mumbled and resumed the rubbing behind his head.

The girl stayed silent for a moment before raising a gloved hand. Alarms immediately went off in his head, and he blocked her by the wrist before her fingers could touch his hair. "W-what?" he asked with a smile masking his apprehension.

"I want to help pat the pain away," she answered without any hesitation, blinking as though asking him if she was doing something wrong.

He stifled a sigh, brushing her hand away as gently as possible, all the while inching away from her. Didn't she realize how cute her words were? "No need…" he said dismissively and stood up to his full height. Noticing her expression, however, he hastily added. "Thanks… though…"

She kept staring up at him, her face unchanging, and he realized he couldn't read her quite as well as he remembered he could. It had been a while after all. He couldn't blame her if she had closed herself from him, especially when he was the one building this wall between them. However, her guarded eyes made him more nervous than he was supposed to. He really didn't want to accidentally create any more misunderstandings for her. She didn't need any more of his bullshit.

At the thought, he turned away with a sharp spin on his heels, hiding his frown.

As to how Ib was here… he could only think of one reason. Scarlet must have forgotten to lock the door when she left… _again._

"So," Garry started with an awkward cough as he pretended to be busy with fixing his clothing. "Why did you come, Ib… sweetheart?" realizing that his tone was somehow harsher than intended, the endearment was added in hope Ib wouldn't notice.

"Well… I rang the bell, but you didn't answer," she answered in a small voice. "The door wasn't locked so I just came in… Are you mad?"

So he was _that_ spaced out. "No, hon. Not at all," he flashed a friendly smile over his shoulder before striding towards his room. Garry wasn't sure what exactly he was going to do in his room, he just… needed to have a reason not to face her.

However, the sound of her footsteps patting after him could be heard, inducing a discreet shake of his head. They were in a 'conversation,' of course Ib would follow him. Just... He really wasn't ready to be with her just yet. Not to mention her sudden visit had caught him completely off guard. "But _why_ did you come?" he stressed the question without really meaning to.

"B-because… it's been a while…" Ib lingered in the doorway, waiting for Garry to turn around, but he didn't. He went straight for the dresser opposite of his bed and started rummaging through his things there.

"… Yes?" he nudged in the soft voice she had gotten used to hearing, but somehow it felt distant.

The little girl reached for her skirt, scrunching up the fabric as a habit when tensed. What was it that Garry was looking for? Wouldn't he turn around soon? She had never been good with facing people, but talking to their backs was even more nerve-wracking. Worse yet, she had this hazy feeling that Garry was keeping his back to her on purpose.

He was acting strange – not that he hadn't been all this time, but still… This entire situation wasn't what she had expected before coming here. He was supposed to be delighted to see her regardless of her reason for visiting, he was supposed to let her pat him – and hug her shortly after, he was supposed to compliment her clothes, he was supposed to… he was supposed to just look at her. She didn't care if she was being selfish or self-centered. She just wanted Garry to look at her, talk to her, smile at her like before. Just what had changed? Their proximity, why did it feel like so long ago?

Had he really gotten tired of indulging a troublesome child like her? Was she a bother to him?

The rims of her eyes started to sting.

.

Garry continued to go over the very few things in the dresser's locker aimlessly. He frowned at the silence steadily growing in the room, wondering why his little friend wasn't saying anything. 'Friend.' Now that word felt really awkward. He didn't want to be her 'friend,' and really, she shouldn't have a friend as fucked up as him.

Another deep breath, he stepped to a side and took a peek at her reflection in the mirror.

.

"I-Ib?" he spun around in shock.

She had a blank expression, but her brows slowly drew together in the slightest to form a pained look so delicate he didn't think it was possible for a child. The look on her face gripped at his heart, leaving him dumbstruck. As tears threatened to spill, the girl hastily hung her head to hide them. She grabbed handfuls of her red skirt, head sinking between shoulders that were trembling vulnerably. Another stab of chest pain woke him from his stupor, and he took a dazed step towards her. "Ib?"

She didn't reply.

_**Don't just stand there.** _

What was he doing really? Making her cry… watching her cry. He had to stop her tears. But how?

_**Do something.** _

He mentally shook himself and approached the little girl.

"H-hey, what's wrong?" he asked despite pretty much knowing the answer, kneeling down in front of her. She moved to turn away, but he kept her still. He tried to lift her face to him, but she resisted fervently. With a sigh, he relented, opting to bend his tall frame to meet her eyes. Although he could win the tug-o-war easily, he didn't want to use any force against her.

Ib was crying. So many times, he had dreamt of her crying face and weeping voice; so many times that he'd lost count, yet experiencing her tears first hand was still utterly devastating. "Shhh," hands cupping her cheeks, he carefully wiped her tears away. "Don't cry, hush dear. Don't cry… please," his voice was almost pleading at the end.

She sniffed once, keeping her head down.

Garry was at a loss of what to do. Comforting her… hadn't it been so easy before? Why couldn't he seem to think of anything to soothe her now? He held back a groan and lowered his gaze to her skirt, where she was clutching tightly. "Now Ib," he took on a slightly chiding tone, letting go of her face.

Her hands suddenly shot up and slapped over his, startling him. As he blinked in confusion, she glanced up at him, eyes beseeching. She kept his hands pressed to her cheeks, small fingers curled around them in a tight grip. His heart rate slowly increased – he didn't like where his thoughts were headed.

It was getting harder to breathe normally. Just what kind of sick bastard would get aroused in a situation like this? Him, apparently. Using every bit of his willpower to clamp down at his overactive libido, he tried to focus on the riddle that was her.

"I was lonely," she said unceremoniously, much to his surprise, her voice breaking. "Don't ignore me, don't leave." He could only stare wide-eyed as she continued, not really believing he was hearing the confession from her. Sure, it wasn't any surprise, what she was feeling. But the fact that she was pouring her heart out, and even demanding his attention so straightforwardly, was so out of character he was inclined to think this was another lucid dream of his – another one of his laughable attempts to shake his own resolution, perhaps. He knew better than that though.

This was reality, and… he had hurt her. Words couldn't describe the guilt that engulfed him as he watched her cling to his hands as though he would shove her away any moment.

Something in him melted then.

Ib adamantly held onto him, yet, like a frightened little bunny, she flinched when he touched his forehead to hers.

"Silly girl, I'm not going anywhere," he crooned, pinching her petal soft cheeks. Slowly, he slipped his hands from her loosened hold and moved them to her wrinkled skirt. "I just wanted to take a look at this pretty skirt of yours," with a joking chuckle, he gingerly smoothened the material. "Didn't Ma and Pa buy this for you? Treat it with care, okay?"

Garry looked back up at his little girl, giving her an assuring smile. He ran his thumb over the hint of dark ring under her eye and brought his face close to hers. "What did I tell you, dear? Crying is a disservice to your beautiful face," he whispered before craning to place a long, tender kiss over her closed eyelid. Pulling back, he placed his hands on her shoulders, fingers brushing the curve of her jaw, "Smile for me?"

She showed no sign of heeding his request, brows further scrunching up as she clutched the sleeves of his jacket. Oh dear, it seemed he had made her crying worse. She took a step into his outstretched arms and wrapped her own around his neck. As she buried her face into his chest, he could feel her taking a deep breath.

"I missed you," she whimpered between sobs.

"… I'm sorry."

He was an idiot. He was an idiot to have pushed her away, to have wanted more. He was so important to her. She loved him so much, just what more could he ask for?

Like this was fine.

Looking down at her small head, he pulled her tighter against him.

Yes, like this was fine.


	18. Contented

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things were finally settling down... yet...

**Contented**

"Here you go~" Garry chimed in his honeyed voice as he set a plate down on the glass table. It was neatly piled with little macarons of multiple flavours. "Help yourself, dear."

Ib moved her eyes away from the book in her lap, looking up at him. Garry had changed out of his pajamas, wearing simple trousers and a plain grey shirt underneath his jacket. He had two bobby pins in his hair, keeping his usually shaggy side bangs away from his left eye. As it had turned out, they were the reason why he was searching his dresser – or so he had told her. Though, for some reason, she didn't think that was quite the case, she would still take his words for it. Garry was back to normal, and that was all that mattered to her.

The smell of chocolate started permeating the air as he came back from the kitchen with two mugs. Ib closed the book she was reading and set it to the side. Letting her legs dangle, she watched Garry carefully bring their drinks to the table – hers should be the white mug, while his the black. Garry liked his cocoa really thick, so she wouldn't want to drink his by mistake. His sweet tooth scared even a kid like her.

"Aren't you gonna watch TV?" he asked.

She simply shook her head.

"Oh, right. Sorry, I don't have any cartoon channels here," he chuckled.

"It's not that," the little girl nearly pouted at his comment. Although it was true she preferred to watch cartoons, she didn't want him to think of her in such a childish light. "Not that…" she repeated, eyeing Garry as he placed the cocoa down. Her mouth parted to speak, but her words hesitated to form. She wasn't used to this, but if she was going to tell him, now was the time – before she loses the chance. Pulling at the front of her hoodie, she tried to hide as much of her face as possible, "… I'd rather spend time talking to you."

The mugs clattered dangerously against the glass surface as Garry looked up at her with shock written all over his face.

Ib inwardly cringed. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything. She was about to start berating herself when all of a sudden, Garry tilted his head, hands clasping together in a smitten expression. "Oh me oh my, what is this kid saying~" he swooned, flopping down beside her on the couch and gathering her into a big bear hug. "Daaw, talk to me all you want, honey! Garry will listen to everything."

Squeezed tightly in his embrace, she couldn't help but feel proud of herself.

His smile was warm and his touch gentle. She felt silly now to have assumed he was any different. He'd explained that he had been stressed by his midterms the past month and apologized for neglecting her. Everything was just a huge misunderstanding on her part. She had heard that universities were very hard. Garry didn't deal well with stress already, yet she had been bothering him all that time.

She let out a short sigh, her eyes eventually found their way to him as she nibbled at a macaron.

Just now, she had even caused him to fall off the couch. He had assured her that the bruise wasn't bad, but she knew he had only said that to make her feel better.

"Ah~" Garry picked up his mug as he chewed. It was then that she noticed something. "Nothing beats macarons and hot co-"

He balked, practically froze when the girl moved to reach for his face. Before Ib could touch him, however, she was stopped. He had a finger to her forehead, his whole demeanour stiff and jumpy. Slowly, but surely, he straightened his arm and pushed her away from him. Though confused, Ib obediently complied and sat back in her original spot.

"… Garry?" she questioned, twisting her brows at his rigid expression.

"Y-yeah?" Garry seemed nervous. Crinkling his eyes in a tense smile, he retracted his hand from her and inched a bit towards the other end of the couch. "S-sorry. You… startled me, is all. So… what is it?"

Ib stared at him, her mind working to understand his queer reaction. She knew that she had been overthinking a lot about Garry, and should probably stop doing that, but something just bugged her to no end. Something that her young mind couldn't comprehend just yet.

"Your ear…" she let her sentence hang, just as she always did.

"Oh, these?" his eyes brightened up as he touched his left ear. She had been too occupied before to notice, but with his hair swept back, she realized there were two small orbs decorating the lower rim of his earlobe. The black accessories, though tiny, were stark against his pale white skin, making her wonder how she had missed them all this time. "I got them a few weeks ago at a party. Silly me got provoked into a pain tolerance game."

"Can I look?" she asked, already getting to her knees. Ib didn't wait to hear his mumbled reply and just scuttered near. Her small hands keeping his face still, she angled his head to give her the best view of his ear. Up close, she found out that the piercings were actually of a dark blue. They were the same color as his eyes. She brought a curious thumb over the reddened skin around the tiny earrings, and felt Garry squirm under her touch. "Does it hurt?"

"It… was awful when I got back from the party," he answered with a distracted look, absentmindedly taking a sip from his mug. "Those ba- people didn't hold back at all. When I heard they were doing lobes, I thought it wouldn't be too bad… yet they actually managed to make it hurt. B-but it's almost healed now, don't worry!"

"So normally piercing doesn't hurt?" she continued with her inquiries, not moving her gaze from his ear.

"Well… I wouldn't say there's no pain," Garry placed his hand onto hers in a way that suggested he wanted her to let go, but she disregarded the gesture, too absorbed to notice his discomfort. "Say, Ib. Why so interested? Don't tell me you want to get piercings as well."

She did. The earrings looked really pretty on him. They seemed to bring this little enhancement to his slender, yet strong neck. "I-Ib?" was the weak protest Garry squeaked as Ib ran her short fingers through his hair, blunt nails lightly scraping his scalp. She carefully took away the bobby pins, letting his silky bangs cascade back down his cheek. Though slightly unkempt, his hair still possessed a burnished quality to them, and she could never quite decide if it was a vibrant purple or a cool lavender. Garry was already very beautiful, but something about how the earrings were peeking out from under his dichromatic hair just made his profile more… eye-catching, for a lack of better words.

Although… it was a tad disheartening to know that this was the result from some stranger provoking him, and that she was weeks late in knowing the news. She had missed something about Garry during the time they didn't meet up. She could have been there when his ear was still swelling and listened to him complain every two sentences about how much it hurt. Ib liked it when he acted all childish; the gap between them didn't seem so wide then.

A strange feeling sparked within her in the midst of her admiration, and she pulled him nearer despite the slight resistance he posed. "Ib?"

Gripping at the fabric of his jacket, she craned to place a soft kiss over the earrings. "I hope it heals soon."

Garry visibly shuddered, his hand bolting up to cover his ear as he jerked away from her. His face flushed and his mouth agape, he fumbled with the sounds that barely escaped his throat. He stared at her for a moment, before averting his eyes. "Gar-" out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed his mug was threatening to spill in his slackened hold. "Garry," she called, hurriedly reaching over his lap to help him support the drink.

He blinked, eyes still unfocused, "ah… sorry." She could feel the strength returning to his grip as he straightened himself. "Thanks, Ib…" there was a short pause where he crossed his long legs and moved his hand from her grasp. Not looking at her, he continued in a sigh, "don't… do that again… Okay?"

Ib flopped back down on the couch. "Why? Did it hurt?" she asked, head sinking between her shoulders. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no… you didn't, hon," he had a faraway look in his eyes. "Just… don't. My ear'll be as good as new soon, so don't mind it anymore. 'kay?"

Garry didn't say anything after that, only giving her hair a gentle pat. It was a cue to drop the subject and move on.

Without another word, she returned to the hamburger-shaped pastries on the table, albeit sullenly. Silences were common when they were together, but she didn't like this kind of silences. The air was heavy, and it didn't feel right to say anything. Her mind filled with uncertainty, she resorted to fiddling with the pins she had taken from him. Had she done something wrong? She didn't understand why he was so upset. She kissed him on countless occasions. Even if this was the first time she had ever kissed his ear, she still didn't see how it was any different. But then again, Garry had always reacted strongly to unexpected things.

"Talking about getting hurt," setting his mug down, Garry finally broke the silence after what felt like forever, and she immediately perked up, eager to grab the chance to start talking with him again. "How is the wound on your arm?"

She pulled the long sleeve of her hoodie up to reveal the skin on her arm. The cut had already healed and disappeared without a trace, just as the school nurse had promised her. Garry seemed very glad as he ran his thumb over where he remembered the cut had been – which was the wrong place, but she didn't say anything and just enjoyed his smile. Apparently, he had been really worried with the memory of the large bandage plastered over her skin, afraid there would be a scar.

He cared. That thought nearly put a smile on her face. Although she didn't like excessive attention from people, she loved it when Garry fussed over the smallest thing about her.

They continued to eat the macarons, and she finally got to drink her cocoa. Garry was very displeased about how the drink had gone cold and insisted on heating it up for her despite her refusal. To stop him, Ib finished her drink in one go and nimbly climbed onto his lap. He didn't appear to be too comfortable with that, but she ignored his plea. She didn't like the thought of him leaving for anything, even if it was just a few minutes of microwave. They hadn't been together in a month already. She wanted to stay close to him for as long as possible.

Burying her face into his broad chest, she felt him becoming taut. Ib closed her eyes and renewed her memory of his scent. She lingered for a moment, before reluctantly detaching herself from him. Garry was staring down at her, making a face as he tried to perceive her bored expression. "I haven't showered today," he said with a shrug.

Contrary to his belief, he smelled really nice. Beneath the fresh laundry was a scent that was simply his. Slightly sweaty, a tad sour, yet soothing. Not masked with shampoo or soap, or cologne; not any special, yet in a sense, very much so.

He pinched her nose, "Sorry if I smell weird."

At close distance, his breath wafted against her face, and she blinked in surprise. There was a nostalgic tang of… smoke. Though faint, it was unmistakable. Ib had thought she was imagining it when she had happened to take a sniff at his hair after kissing his ear.

"… What is it?" he asked, unable to decipher her this time around.

Ib shook her head and leant against his rangy frame. Garry was confusing at times and wouldn't tell her what was wrong. He must take her for an ignorant child… and a child she was. So, she would wait. Until she is able to understand what the wry look on his face meant, she would wait patiently. For now, as long as Garry was fine with it, she would be also.

.

"Say ah~" he sang, pressing a macaron against her lips.

Ib accepted the sweet in a heartbeat, popping the whole thing into her mouth. How he wanted to get a taste of that same sweet also. It looked really good with the way her cheeks seemed to puff as she ate.

Garry reached for the pastry plate that had been moved onto the couch and took a macaron for himself.

"Garry, what flavour is that?" she asked, halting him just as he bit into the pale-brown macaron.

Tamarind, he answered in his head upon tasting the distinctive sourness at the tip of his tongue. It was a new flavour he had started buying a while back. Did she want one, too? His eyes quickly scanned the plate to his left, only to find that only lemons and strawberries were left. Oh dear, he ate the last one. He glanced at Ib – the girl was looking at the same macaron plate as he had, before turning back to him.

"Er… shor-"

Before he could finish the apology, he felt her weight being lifted from his thighs. In a fraction of a second, her face neared. Soft breaths landed on his skin, tingling his every nerve. His eyes wide and his mind a total blank, he could barely register the way her cute little nose was pressed against his. There was a soft tug on the sweet between his teeth as she carefully bit off as much as she could without their lips touching. The notion made him gulp.

"Tamarind," she stated with an air of accomplishment, dropping back down onto his lap. Her small hands were rested against his chest, and he would have pushed them away if not for the fact that his entire body had frozen over. No, more like, he _willed_ it to freeze, because he didn't know what it might do otherwise.

Was it wrong for him to wish that their lips had touched?

"… Garry? You're not eating?"

"Eh… 'o…" he shook his head.

Garry sat very, very still, as though it would keep his heart from beating any faster, praying that she didn't notice the cacophony going on between his ribs. He hesitantly brought the halt-eaten macaron into his mouth and rolled it around. The moment the lumpy part of where she had taken a bite touched his tongue, he nearly winced, overly aware of the slightly dampened surface. As he carefully chewed, impure thoughts of intimacy started to rear their ugly heads once more, and the fact that her entire front stayed pressed against his didn't help one bit.

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah… very," he swallowed with much hardship, managing a crooked smile. God, he could barely taste the thing.

She smiled.

_**Ah…** _

His hands that had been kept strictly by his sides and nailed to the cushion beneath him were beginning to itch and twitch. Just how lovable could she get? Biting the inside of his lower lip, Garry started to clench and unclench his fists. Maybe just a little, he thought, his resolution crumbling. Cupping her small face, his grin began to show as he fondled her cheeks. They were so tender, so soft to the touch. The squishiness between his fingers was so addicting. He could do this forever and never get bored.

_**So adorable…** _

Ib stayed still in his arms. Judging from her expression, she was enjoying this as much as he was. This wasn't too bad. Like this was fine. He felt appreciated and loved… as her friend – her only one.

He raised a hand to her head and gently combed her hair. Taking a lock into his hold, he couldn't help but marveled at how smooth it was. His fingers seemed to melt as he further tangled them between the mass of her fine strands. Knuckles lightly brushing the curve of her ear, he noticed the faint blush dusting her skin and hid a smug smile as she seemed to withdraw from the touch. Such a lovely little thing.

.

.

.

"Garry?"

.

"Yeah?"

.

.

"I'm really glad I listened to Ray."

.

… _**Ah?**_


	19. Fatigue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was growing... and so was his desires.

"… Pardon?" he retracted his hand from her hair.

Ib only gave him a confused tilt of her head as reply.

She was glad, she had said.

His smile was frozen and he couldn't seem to focus. His mind had stopped working. He was having great trouble comprehending the words that had just left her mouth.

She was glad that she had listened to whom now? He couldn't put a face to that name, but something told him that it was bad news. An ugly feeling coiled around his chest and his heart steadily took on a faster pace, his calm breathing disrupted.

"Who's Ray?" he asked tersely, dabbing on a breathless chuckle to smoothen the edges in his tone. Somehow, he was afraid to hear the answer to his question.

Her puzzled expression dissipated and, to his irritation, replaced with a slightly embarrassed look. "It's the boy I told you about," with an oblivious smile, she lightheartedly confirmed his fear.

 _'Ray.'_ Right, he remembered now. The blond kid in front of her school that day… The brat that had so easily taken her away from his embrace. It took everything he had to keep a disgusted frown off his face. The corner of his mouth twitched in annoyance, he wanted nothing but to let his real feelings show. But that wouldn't do now, would it?

"Oh? You mean that boy that you… like?" Garry almost spat the word out.

She nodded bashfully. "You see… he was… kind. Ray stayed with me when I was alone, and… the nightmares aren't as scary when I was with him. And he told me to tell you…"

"Uh-huh?" he nodded absentmindedly.

"… My feelings," she fidgeted, averting her eyes. "He said if I don't say them clearly, you won't know."

What was this? What was she saying? He couldn't seem to understand. Was she actually telling him that not only was the brat able to quell her hauntings, he was also the reason they were having this moment together? A kid that had randomly popped out of nowhere was the reason for her sudden changes? How she had showed up in his home? How she had clung onto him despite her normally reserved attitude? How she had straightforwardly confessed her thoughts to him? All of that?

No, no. This wasn't right. He was the one she needed for comfort, the one who taught her new things, the one to draw emotions from her. They were supposed to be back to normal, Ib and him. He was important to her, and she couldn't stand to be without him, right? _Right?_ What had just happened? The peace of mind he had just established was nowhere to be found, while the unpleasant anxiety from way back engulfed him once more.

He had to calm down. He had better act normal. He had better.

"… Garry?" her concerned eyes looked up at him, and he could only offer a distracted stare back.

**_Ah… No good._ **

Garry swallowed with difficulty, his throat parched. He couldn't think of anything. The face she was making was no good… He was no good. His smiling countenance had probably faded. He had to get himself together. How to smile? His head was killing him.

**_Get her out…_ **

"You… really like him eh, Ib," he said in a weak voice.

"… Yeah."

His head… his heart hurt. It felt like they might break anytime now. He brought a thumb to her cheek, gently brushing the pink curve of her face. Could her small hands feel the beating inside his chest right now? It was so loud that he couldn't hear anything else. He saw her mouth move to speak, probably calling his name again, but he couldn't be sure. His jaw worked to answer her, but he just didn't have anything to reply.

**_Get her the fuck out!_ **

Glancing at the clock on the television, he managed to force out a smile, "Why isn't it late already. Let's get you home, sweetheart."

Her smile disappeared.

.

"Honey," he said in a helpless voice as he straightened his stance in spite of the stubborn pull on the tail of his shirt. "If you don't let go, I can't go change."

"Then don't change."

Garry held back a sigh, looking over his shoulder to meet with her determined gaze. He hadn't thought this to be easy, considering that she hadn't been too pleased about his announcement to end their time together, and that she had fought – quite fiercely he might add, to stay on his lap, but he really hadn't accounted for her to persist even after having been plucked from him.

He smiled and patted her head, "Ib, please let go."

Oh? If he wasn't mistaken, there was a spark of hesitation in her eyes as she sullenly released his clothes. The realization made him feel a lot better. At least, she still had qualms about expressing herself. At least… she still needed his guidance in opening up. "Good girl," he cooed endearingly. "Wait for me, okay? It'll just take a moment."

The sad look that she was making made him want to give into her, but he knew better. Garry swiftly turned on his heel and headed to his room; the sound of footsteps following him, however, told him that this was far from over. He was doing the right thing here. He just wished she didn't make this any harder than it already was.

"Garry, please…" she said from behind him. "I don't want to go back yet."

He inwardly groaned and decided to simply ignore her. Flipping the bedroom light on, Garry unzipped his jacket and chucked it at the foot of the bed. A brief glance at the door nearly put a mischievous smirk on his face. As expected, Ib was lingering at the doorway, obviously troubled. Yup, she would have to give up – or so he had thought.

"Ib," Garry drawled. He had his back to her, arms crossed in front of his stomach, ready to pull off his shirt. "Could you close the door for me? I can't change like this."

The girl stayed silent. She half wanted to obey him, half just didn't. If she let him change clothes now, it would mean she agreed to return home – which she didn't. It had been such a long time, she wanted to stay with him some more. The time they spent together had gone by so fast, she hadn't realized it had gotten so late already. She would like to say that the clock was lying, but the darkness outside the window would prove her wrong before she could finish that silly thought.

Ib knew she shouldn't trouble Garry, but a part of her – the part that had doubted him all this time – was screaming for her to stay. Surely if she went home today, they could meet up again tomorrow, or the day after that. However, something just told her that wouldn't be the case, and she was afraid of hearing rejections after rejections from him again.

She saw his tall frame move as he took in a deep breath, scratching the back of his head in an impatient manner. Wordlessly, he turned to her, hands on his hips.

He was mad. The notion greatly shook her determination. She rarely ever saw him mad, and even if she did, it was never at her. Was she really willing to risk having Garry hate her? But then, this feeling she was getting from him, it was the same as the last time she had come here. He smiled, but it felt like he was pushing her away. She couldn't shake off the fear of being ignored by him all over again.

Ib knew he would be saying something anytime now. Just as she saw him sucking in a breath, the girl stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.

His jaw dropped. "Why did you do that!" he demanded.

"I closed the door," she replied, toying with the decorative zippers on her hoodie. "Like you told me to."

Garry wanted to chide her, but found himself speechless, looking around the room in exasperation. She was so stubborn! Because he had always spoilt her and she had always listened to him, he had forgotten how stubborn she could get. It was this side of her that got even her protective parents to yield and let them hang out so often.

"Don't be like this, Ib," he said in a reproachful tone.

"I don't want to go home tonight," she muttered with a slight pout. "Can't I just stay here?"

"No- Wait, what?" his eyes narrowed, not quite believing what he had heard. "… You… didn't run away from home or anything, right?" it was unlikely, but he asked anyway. The little girl promptly shook her head in return, and he smiled widely. "Then you're going home. I'm pretty sure it's past your curfew."

On the contrary, Ib didn't have a curfew. There had never been a need for one, considering that she didn't hang out with people. Garry just liked to believe there was one.

"Please, Garry," she pleaded with an upward glance. "Let me stay over. It's been such a long time since I last did."

"No," he said firmly, turning his back to her again. The heat was gathering at his face. He really couldn't win against her like this, that puppy face was unfair, "now let me change." He hoped she gave up soon.

He could hear her walking up to him, and feel her arms wrapped around his stomach from behind. She had grown taller, he noted. Two years ago, she could barely cling to his waist, and now she hugged it with ease.

She buried her face into his back, gripping at the front of his shirt. "Garry!"

"No," he remained adamant.

"Garry…" the girl said into his back as she tugged at his clothes, and he felt his resolute mellowing, but did his best not to give in. "Garry~"

He smiled down at her in an overly cheerful manner and could practically see how it elicited a ray of hope inside her. "No," he mercilessly killed that hope with a tone of finality and averted his eyes right after. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw her pout. That wasn't a good sign. She was only getting more determined by the seconds.

"Garry, please. Can I stay over tonight?" she snuggled against him, tightening her embrace. "Please? Ma and Pa are going out tonight."

"Ib," he let out another sigh. "I said-"

"Please," she dug her fingers into his baggy shirt, and he could feel her small body tremble against his. "I don't feel good with the paintings at home… Ma likes them a lot, I can't tell her to put them away."

Ah, that was foul play.

Alysha, being a fan of Guertena's works, had her home decorated with a few copies of the artist's haunting pieces. He didn't know how Ib could live with them while he couldn't even bring himself to have a random painting at his place. He had to thank God that the woman hadn't managed to win the auction for the real ones. He would never be able to sleep at night if he knew Ib had to stay in the same house as those cursed artworks. Nonetheless, real or not, the paintings still frightened the little girl, and he was actually trying to send her back to that horror? As someone who knew her fears, nay, as the _only_ one who knew, the least he could do for her was give her a place to stay when she needed one. He owed it to her.

Garry turned his torso to drape an arm over her shoulder, patting her head. She glanced up at him, red eyes more hopeful than ever.

He was going to regret this.

"Alright…" he tapped lightly on her soft cheek, a sense of defeat overwhelmed him as her features brightened up. "You can stay… But your parents get the final say. I'll phone them and if they say no, you're going home. No arguments, okay?" Ib didn't reply, not meeting his gaze. " _Okay?"_ he stressed, pinching her cheek with a little more force than normal.

Reluctantly, she nodded and stuck closer to him.

"Good girl."

* * *

He did regret this.

Garry slowly cut the onions on the chopping board, somewhat in a daze. Unable to ignore the faint sound of running water coming from the bathroom, it was a miracle he hadn't cut himself along with the tomatoes that now lay in a heap of messy slices.

They hadn't said no.

Well, technically, her father had, but her mother had quickly dismissed the man. He had planned to have the parents disallow her stay and save himself from this whole ordeal, had bet everything on that, but in the end… Ib got what she wanted. The married couple really was going to a party, and Alysha had been very glad that there was someone to look after Ib for them. Didn't the woman realize he was the worst guardian she could possibly rely on right now?

He was a pathetic excuse of an adult, unbefitting of being beside Ib. He got all riled up because of a childish crush of a girl who hadn't even entered her teens yet. From here on out, she would meet many more people. The pretty little thing she was, many would fall in love with her, try to get close to her. Was he going to throw a tantrum every time she decided to reciprocate some brat's shallow feelings? And then, one day, she would probably find someone who would get even closer to her than he ever could. One day, she would meet that 'fated person' that all romance novels preached of. And through everything, he would forever and always be that brother figure who could never truly stay by her side.

He didn't want to think about it.

Pouring the whipped eggs and vegetables onto the sizzling frying pan, he took a pair of chopsticks to further stir the mixture. The salty smell of fish sauce that emitted from the pan was rather mouthwatering, and, hopefully, would be enough to coax Ib into eating. She preferred omelets with only milk and butter, but because he didn't trust himself to cook any more than one dish right now, this was his last resort to make sure she at least had vegetables in her meal.

_"Ib seemed so down when we told her we wouldn't be coming back until tomorrow. It's a very important event so we have no choice," Alysha had said. "I'm glad she could stay with you. Thank you, Garry. We're always bothering you."_

It wasn't a bother, but a privilege. One that he didn't deserve.

Mother, did you know how much this man wanted to touch your daughter? Father, shouldn't you know the kind of vulgarities that could go through a man's head? There was a reason why her frequent sleepovers had suddenly ceased a year ago. Garry didn't know whether to be glad or dismay that they weren't aware of his desires.

**_Someone…_ **

God, he cared for her so much. His feelings hadn't changed from before, so what was so different? He wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to taste her. He wanted her to look at no one else but him, pay attention to nothing else but him. But there was no way for any of those to happen, was there?

**_Teach me how to get rid of these feelings._ **

.

"Garry, I'm done," she suddenly called, bringing him back from his musing.

"… Aah," Garry had grown stiff from surprise, his voice trailing for a moment as he tried to act normally. He had been too occupied to realize that the sound of running water was already gone.

"Are you making omelets?" she sounded very excited, and very close behind him. Even with the eggs emanating its delicious smell from inside the pan that have yet to cool, the smell of fresh shampoo in the air was unmistakable, and he tried his very best to focus on filling the bowl in his hand with freshly cooked rice. He kept his back to her, but could tell that she was drawing near from the sound of her feet tapping along the marble floor. As such, he was able to remain calm as she nudged against his side. Ib clung to his clothes to keep balance and stood on her toes to look into the pan.

"You put stuff into it," she said accusingly, and he could imagine the pout she was making.

"Sorry," he chuckled at how adorable she was, finally turning to face her. "Please bear with it to- Hyyeeeeekkkk!" he shrieked, jumping back away from her in alarm and nearly dropping the rice bowl.

His back plastered to the wall, Garry shakily pointed the rice ladle in his hand at the girl, who was still cringing from his hysterical scream. "W-what are you… What are you wearing!"

Ib relaxed her shoulders, eyes opening again, and stared at him in confusion. She looked down at herself with arms slightly parted from her body – the petite body that was swallowed by a shirt clearly several sizes too big for her. The shirt was almost like a dress on her, stretching to mid of her thighs, but the problem was that it wasn't a dress. It was his shirt! The wide collar was threatening to slip from her narrow shoulders, the V-cut awarding him with a generous view of her slender neck, a hint of collarbones at its base, and even a portion of the smooth, flat skin below that, leaving the randy part in a corner of his mind wanting more. Her chocolate brown hair seemed to take on a reddish hue as it poured over the fern blue of the shirt. The striped long sleeves exceeded the length of her arms, drooping near the end where the outlines of her small hands were indicated by the fabric, emphasizing the tininess that she was. And, oh god, she wasn't wearing a bottom, not one that he could see anyway. Her milky white thighs peeking from under the shirt, her slim legs twining slightly near her dainty pair of feet…

Suddenly realizing that he was staring – _gawking,_ Garry tore his eyes away from her and lowered the ladle to his side. His heartbeats were going wild.

"I didn't have anything to change into," she explained, bringing her covered hands to her mouth, sniffing at the fabric. "This shirt was on the sink and it smelled new so I… Are you mad?" ruby eyes glanced up at him timidly.

"N-no, not at all," he answered, mindfully returning to the rice cooker to resume what he had been doing. He knew she hated it when the person talking to her didn't face her properly, but he couldn't help it. She was so much like a small animal right now, anymore and- Oh lord, his pants were getting tight already. "But why didn't you call me?" and why didn't you wear the clothes you just changed out of again, he wanted to add, but he knew she never wore 'dirty clothes' again. Kids and their parent-trained hygiene.

"I did. You didn't answer."

He really needed to stop spacing out.

.

"Just eat first, hon. I'm gonna go take a shower now," he said after setting up the table with the help of his little Ib, although whether her help was more helpful than distracting or not was up for debates. "Don't wait for me," he told her and disappeared through the threshold before she could utter a word in return.

Garry headed into his bedroom to fetch another shirt for himself, because the one he had planned to change into was… The vivid image of Ib donning his baggy shirt flashed by his mind, and he inadvertently swallowed. For his own sake, he was going to keep telling himself that she had something beneath that dangerously inviting hem.

Pushing at the bathroom door and turning on the lights, he was greeted by the still steamy air inside. Just minutes ago, Ib was in here… naked. He glanced back at the kitchen doorway to his right and attentively listened. She was going to wait for him, wasn't she?

**_… I'm tired._ **

He stepped inside the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Hopefully, he would finish soon.


	20. Forbidden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Self-control was always the norm for him... but then so was self-gratification.

_The words that I'm forbidden from saying…_

_The thoughts that I forbade myself from thinking…_

* * *

Garry dropped his shirt onto the sink where he'd left his khaki pants beforehand and started to undress. As soon as he got out of the grey shirt he was wearing, his eyes fell onto the laundry basket on the marble shelf, pushed against the wall opposite of him. Over the week, his clothes had managed to accumulate into a fair mount inside the basket, but that wasn't what caught his attention. Crowning the top of said mount was the unmistakable white of her hoodie.

He cautiously scanned his surrounding, as though someone could be spying on him in the empty bathroom, before crossing the small distance to the laundry basket. His jaw worked as a slight discomfort shot through his stomach, and he slowly brought his hand to touch the fine material of the hoodie. At first, he hesitantly ran his fingertips over the crumpled surface, but it didn't take long for any second-guesses he might have had to vanish without a trace. He picked the hoodie up and took note of the small turtleneck and skirt lying directly beneath it. His heart beat slowly, but loudly inside his chest as he used his other hand to search through the basket. He didn't see her panties, so he could now rest assured she at least had them on underneath his shirt.

Ignoring the questionable pang of disappointment that lurked in a corner of his mind, he put the hoodie back down and… grabbed the turtleneck.

Just by holding it near, his nose could already begin to get whiffs of the faint fragrance coming from the creamy fabric of her shirt. The sweet smell seemed to pull his face closer and closer by the seconds, in spite of the ugly churn in his guts. The part of him that was fervently against this was slowly becoming numb, fading away. Reaching down, he pulled at the zipper, hand sliding under the waistband of his briefs.

He really shouldn't.

But he couldn't care less.

Swallowing the saliva practically gushing from his glands, he pressed the piece of clothing to his face and let her scent flood his nose and fill his lungs to their brim. His lids became heavy and fell shut. His fingers curled around his hardened shaft, freeing it from its tight confines, and started a stroking motion.

Indecent fantasies began forming in his head.

_On the dark marble floor warmed by the shower water pouring down on them, she squirmed under his weight, small fingers desperately clung to the back of his neck, gripping at his hair. Her body was feverish against his. He had an arm snaked under her petite frame to keep her back off the hard marble floor as he roughly thrust in and out of her._

Garry exhaled into the fabric warm from the prior breaths he'd taken and prematurely sucked in another one through his nostrils, relishing the waves of arousal that ran down his shoulders and spine. He felt himself sway back and instinctively bent forward. He might be losing balance, but he couldn't be sure – his eyes were closed and he couldn't spare the strength to open them, too immersed in indulging his putrid desire. As heat gathered between his legs, slowly building up, his knees suddenly caved and he collapse onto them. His hand didn't stop; he was too far gone, his mind overflowing with vision of her young body dominated by him.

_Her eyes squeezed shut as she bit back a surprised gasp; pink, dampened lips did their best to keep her voice down in vain. Her hair was soaked, sticking to her cheeks and neck, and splayed on the glazed floor. She shakily parted her eyelids, ruby orbs peeked up at him from underneath. Her usual calmness disturbed, she arched her flat chest towards him and threw her head back._

Sweat beaded his forehead and dampened the skin on his back. He grinded his jaw and nuzzled further into the shirt crumpled in his hand. His toes curled against the hard floor, he could feel his entire being tighten up. His climax was coming. He gave himself one final tug, groaning out loud and nearly shouting as his seeds spilled all over the floor, white mush stark on black tiles.

Garry breathed heavily, shoulders rising and falling in a hazardous manner. He lowered her clothes away from his face, his other hand fell limp by his side. His chest hurt from chaotic heartbeats and lack of oxygen, but nothing could dull the pleasure that coursed through his veins.

He looked down at the wrinkled turtleneck, swallowing amidst his ragged breathing. Just like many times before, after the hormones high had passed, all he was left with was a gut-wrenching guilt.

* * *

Garry slowly exited the bathroom without daring to look back. It was as though he was turning away from some contemptible side of himself together with its deeds inside. He turned the lights off. Shrouded in the darkness of the apartment, he took a glance at the light pouring through the kitchen's door, trying to return to his normal mindset. He… already had his moss green shirt on, and brown khaki pants, a-and he'd put the used clothes – hers included – into the washing machine. Was there something else he should do before coming back to her? He hoped there was nothing off about him.

He patted down his body, checking the pockets on his pants to make sure that there was nothing that would give away that episode back inside the bathroom. Though if he thought about it, there shouldn't be anything. Well, better to be safe than sorry.

Breathing deeply, he prepared himself for the sight of her in his baggy shirt and walked to the kitchen.

.

As it turned out, with proper preparation, seeing her sitting in wait for him at the table was more adorable than alluring. He felt silly to have reacted so fiercely before. Of course, he had to admit that her sitting on the other side of the table helped. It prevented him from seeing anything below her chest.

Ib didn't say a word of complaint when he came back, and he was aware he'd taken his sweet time inside the shower. She only noted that the food had gone cold, to which he mock-chided her for waiting even though he'd told her not to. In any case, microwave easily fixed everything, and they soon began their dinner. Nothing fancy was on the table: rice, veggie omelet, a side of pickled cucumbers that his aunt had given him a while back, and soy sauce. Ib didn't seem too fond of the pickles, he noticed. She only took one to eat out of courtesy and didn't touch them again for the rest of the meal. He would like her to have something better, but he just wasn't prepared to have guests. It was the end of the week and food in his fridge was running low. He hadn't even expected Ib to show up without any prior agreements, much less to have her sleepover.

After dinner, it was fairly late into the night. He quickly rinsed the dishes, and Ib then helped him put them into the dishwasher. Unlike usual, he was the one to put the dishes inside and Ib just passed them over, because he didn't want to have her crouching in front of him.

Then they both went to brush their teeth. His heart couldn't help but quicken a little as he followed her inside the bathroom. There was a small panic as he couldn't remember where he'd put the toothbrush she'd always used before; it had already been over a year after all. He'd put it away for it was too distracting outside.

Finding the toothbrush was easy enough, and afterwards, the real problem began. It was time to put her to bed.

"You're not sleeping with me tonight?" she asked, a disappointed look on her face.

The girl sat in the middle of his bed with the blanket, thankfully, covering her legs.

If only she knew what her words could suggest. God forbid should he jump her right now.

"Sorry, sweetie," he patted her head. "I have some homework to take care of. It's really urgent," because homework right after midterm was totally a thing.

Ib sullenly nodded and lay down, shuffling into the blanket. She rolled onto her side and watched as he headed for the door. "Garry, please don't turn off all the lights."

He halted just before flipping the white switches and turned back to her. "My, there's only one light in here," he chuckled, gesturing at the large widow wall on the other side of the room. "Isn't the light in the garden enough?" She shook her head as clearly as she could lying down. "How's this? I'll leave the door open and study just outside on the couch. Hm?"

She appeared to hesitate, but nodded anyway. Usually, he would think more for her fear, but right now he just wanted to leave as soon as possible. "Good night, Ib," he smiled.

"Night, Garry."

He flicked the light off.

* * *

Ib continued to stare out the gap in the doorway that Garry had left for her. She couldn't sleep, or perhaps she was waiting to see if Garry would finish whatever he was doing and join her in bed. A small part of her was sulking, but the sweet lavender smell coming from the sheets placated her somewhat. Still, this couldn't be compared with Garry himself. It was cold even under the thick blanket, and she wished she could snuggle with him and share their body heat. And as they would drift to sleep, she could talk to him a little more.

Maybe it was because they hadn't been together for a whole month that she felt especially loquacious today. She wanted to tell him about the things that had happened when he wasn't there and see the gamut of his reactions.

She rolled onto her back and observed the protruding geometries of the ceiling. A year had passed since she'd last slept at Garry's, and it'd slipped her mind that there was only one large light system installed above those blocks of shapes. Why did she stop sleeping over in the first place?

As she lay in silence, Ib thought about a lot of things. She just didn't feel tired. Staying over was so that she could spend more time with him, and if that wasn't possible then what was the point? She realized there were still so many things that she had yet to tell Garry: her last baby tooth finally fell out the day before; there was a blonde girl who had just transferred to the class next to hers; her recent essay got the highest grade in the class thanks to the rich vocabulary that Garry had taught her; the boys in class messed with her less now, and also…

The girl sat up and pushed the heavy blanket off her body.

* * *

It was so quiet. The tall lamp next to television did everything to ward off the eerie darkness in the living room; its orange-yellow light seemed to make the air a little bit less cold.

Garry lay sprawled on the couch, his head resting on one of the tall armrests. Even with the furniture's length, he still had to bend his long legs slightly in order to fit himself in.

A hand over his eyes, he slowly massaged his lids while his other arm hung down from the cushion, knuckles touching the rug beneath. This sure reminded him of the time when he still had to share rundown apartments with other guys. It was quite hard to find guys willing to live with his habits **_–_** they acted like he would jump them in the night or something, and staying with girls was out of the question, so sometimes he would've found himself on some train station's bench. Of course, this couch was still absolute luxury compared to those spine-bruising benches, but it was the cramped space that took him back.

He really had gotten used to the life of comfort, although he shouldn't. Mr. Garland did not provide for him out of kindness. The man could take away everything right now with a single signature. None of this was his. He owned nothing, not even the clothes on his body. He was a stranded street rat… while she a pristine flower.

_**Don't even dream of touching her.** _

Turning his neck, he glanced at the hourglass left on the corner of the table and lazily hefted his hanging arm to flip the bulb. The sand began flowing again.

Suddenly, his ears picked up a soft tapping sound. Before he could even wonder about it, she emerged from behind the couch.

"I-Ib?" he tensed, propping his elbows behind his back to push himself to a half sitting position. "What are you doing up?"

"I couldn't sleep," she answered, leaning forward on the armrest at his feet as he retracted his legs. Her eyes scanned the empty table, "Are you done?"

Garry inwardly winced. As far as she was concerned, this wasn't his makeshift bed for the night and he would join her after he was done with his nonexistent homework. He really hadn't accounted for her to come out and check up on him. "Er… no, no. I'm just… taking a break right now," he managed with a weak smile. Just how long would it be until he could no longer fool her with these shameless lies?

"Oh," she sounded disappointed.

"Don't wait for me and go back to bed."

She walked around the couch to stand next to him. "Can we talk a bit more?... Please?"

Her small hand tugged at his shirt's shoulder. Garry looked up at Ib, not entirely focused on their conversation. He was tired… and she was beautiful. Something about the darkness just made her red orbs seem more mysterious. He lowered his gaze in a sigh. He really couldn't win against her.

"Garry?"

He fully pushed himself up to a sitting position and swung his legs down from the couch. Patting the cushion next to him, he smiled, "Alright, I'm all ears."

Her features brightened up, and god, did she look adorable as she flopped down by his side. Stay calm. He could do this. It was just talking, what could go wrong?

They stayed in silence – one that wasn't exactly awkward, but it wasn't any comfortable for him either. He needed something to distract himself from thinking, and was hoping whatever talk she wanted to have would do the job. Ib needed time to prepare though. She always did, but he was feeling a rare impatience towards her tonight. He wanted to get this over with.

The hourglass wasn't enough to hold his attention anymore, and he found himself glancing sideways at her. She gathered her legs to her chest and sank further into the couch, and he squirmed in his seat. The hem of his shirt was slipping from her thighs, revealing the smooth skin of her legs. Under the warm hue of the lamp, her skin took on a honey colour. The notion made his mouth watered. How defenselessly naïve. The way she rested her chin on her knees – hair spilling down her shoulders and arms – greatly stirred him. She was so small, so lovely. This kind of attraction towards a child was abnormal, but what was he supposed to do?

"Garry," she unexpectedly called. He should be pretty used to her suddenly starting the conversation by now, but he still flinched.

"Yes?"

The little girl turned fully to him, "Recently I don't get…" Her words faded out as he stared at the dark space between her thighs. He couldn't hear what she was saying, it was all a meaningless buzz in his head. He tried to keep his gaze up, but it kept scrolling back down. He couldn't even open his mouth to tell her to lower her knees. His body stiffened. It wasn't good. He was too conscious of her while she wasn't at all aware of what her actions could do to him. Garry tentatively crossed his legs in attempt to suppress the unnatural bulge forming in his pants. Lord, he needed a distraction, but there was no cocoa or macarons for him to pour his attention onto this time around.

"Do you know why?"

Garry blinked. "E-eh?" he stuttered, hastily analyzing the situation and coming up with the appropriate smile to match her cheery demeanour. "Erm, w-why is that?"

Thankfully, Ib was too absorbed in whatever story she was telling to notice his lame response. With a bashful tilt of her head, she said in a small voice, "Ray was there."

.

_**Ah… This again…** _

Garry held back a sigh and averted his gaze. For some reason, it didn't feel like much of a shock anymore. She kept mentioning that damned brat randomly in their conversations. He understood from her stories that she was fascinated by the idea of having a friend her age, but really, was she _that_ fascinated? Wasn't he enough of a friend for her?

"Ray said he would protect me, just like you did," oblivious to his mood that was quickly turning sour, Ib went on. "Um, he's actually a lot like you."

"Oh? How so?" he folded his arms, the bile rising in his throat. Now she was telling him that he and the brat were similar?

"Well, he's… really kind and… really patient," her finger nervously twiddled together as she tried to find the words to express herself. "… He says the same things that you do. Like the time that…"

He wasn't listening anymore. She was actually telling him that the brat was the same as him? Treating her just like he did… saying the same things he did, the brat was basically him, and still she chose that brat over him?

A stab of pain shot through his lungs. His lips parted and the corners of his mouth twitched. He could just laugh at the ridiculousness of this all.

… _**You never considered me, did you?**_

Garry propped an arm on the back of the couch, turning to her. "Why, isn't that good?" he chimed sweetly with a wide smile; the faux ring to his tone was annoying even for his own ears. "Seems like I won't need to worry anymore. You two sound like you get along ju-st fine."

Ib gave him an embarrassed look as he patted her head. He should be glad she was still too young to understand the sarcasm dripping from his voice, but he wasn't. He wasn't satisfied – at all. "So… Let's go our separate ways from now on, you and I."

He kept his smile, watching as hers was replaced with a look of horror – a sick glee bubbled inside him. "… W-why?" she stuttered to ask as he ran his fingers down her face. Garry only offered a vague hum in reply, busying himself with caressing her soft cheek. The girl grabbed his wrist, gripping at his sleeve, "Garry, what do you mean?" She sounded scared.

_**Cute little Ib.** _

"Ah well," he gently wriggled his wrist free and shrugged. "You already got Ray. He's just like me, yes?" Heck, the brat might even fit her description of 'Garry' more than Garry himself. He wasn't kind. He was just kind to her. His patience was only towards her. The words he said were only for her. "What do you need two of the same thing for?"

"That's-" she was shushed by a finger to her lips.

_**If you know… will you be afraid?** _

At her confused expression, Garry deepened his smile and continued with his hypocrisies. "You see, boys tend to back off if a girl has a man by her side. They're funny like that. On the other hand, they absolutely hate seeing the girl they like with another man."

"H-hate?"

_**Will you be disgusted?** _

"Yeah! Don't you want him to like you, Ib?" he stroked the skin under her eye, noticing how the corner had become watery. She was going to cry… This was stupid, but he couldn't stop these poignant words spilling from his mouth. "If it was me, forget seeing, I don't even want to hear about my girl hanging out with some other guy." Probably the only truth he could let out without ruining his pretense. "So," he curled his fingers and took his hand back by his side, "shall we put some distances between us?"

_**I'm all dark and black inside.** _

"B-but you're special!" she reasoned, getting to her knees and moved closer to him. "You're an excepti-"

"What is 'special' to you, Ib?" his smile waned as he hid a satirical snort. "Like Ma? Like Pa?"

Ib was silent. It didn't look like she had an answer, and he didn't expect her to. He wasn't sure why he was talking in riddles – to a child at that. A way to let his spite slip out perhaps.

"To me a special person is the only one. See here, I'm not 'special' at all, so don't use that word so loosely." _It makes me mad_ , his mind added. "Now be a good girl and go to sleep. I'll send you home first thing in the morning… and that will be goodbye."

"What? N-no… Garry I don't want that-"

"My, then it's fine if Ray hates you?" he tilted his head, smirking at how she balked. Ib sank down on her haunches, her expression a mix of lost and disbelief. Her trembling lips parted, but she didn't make a single sound. He was not pleased. She couldn't choose between him and the brat? "I thought so," Garry smiled brightly, ruffling her head as he got to his feet. "Well, let's not see each other a-"

"No!" it was her turn to interrupt him.

Ib was on the verge of tears now, and some sadistic part of him enjoyed it. She clung to his sleeve, his wrist; her bleary red orbs were pleading. A dry chuckle escaped his lungs, "Really, Ib-"

"No," she whimpered, her voice breaking. "I don't see why we can't meet."

His smile disappeared completely as he stared down at her. She would never take the hint now, would she? He didn't have the strength to keep up this façade anymore. He could only continue to stay beside her if these feelings were gone, but that just wasn't possible. Not right now, not ever. Not even if he were to die. Garry lifted his free hand to her cheek and wiped away the stagnant tear at the corner of her eye. Should he demonstrate what all this bullshit is about? Lacing his fingers into her hair, he languidly rubbed his thumb against her ear.

So lovely. He'd be damned if he laid hands on her.

She's off-limit. He wasn't allowed to touch her.

.

But…

"Ib…"

.

.

_**It'd be such a shame if I didn't.** _

"I'm also a man, you know."

He pulled her towards him and bent his tall frame.

Her lips were the softest thing he had ever felt against his.


	21. Indulgence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was supposed to stop... but he chose to indulge himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!! Reader Discretion is Advised.

_"What is 'special' to you, Ib?" Garry had asked her._

She didn't understand his question. He was special. She had just told him so. Why did he say he wasn't?

The mood had suddenly gotten heavy, if it hadn't already been before. For once, she was the one blabbering on, trying to keep the conversation alive, yet he didn't seem like he was listening at all. Then suddenly, he told her not to see him again. She had noticed that Garry was somehow cold and detached tonight, but why he would suggest that was beyond her. Was he ending their friendship? Why? Why now, after everything had just gone back to normal?

The dim lighting prevented her from seeing his face properly and she couldn't quite tell what he was thinking. He was smiling, but something told her he wasn't. The look in his dark eyes as he traced the outline of her cheek sent chills down her spine. It scared her. _He_ scared her, but still she clung to him, afraid that if she let go, he would leave her.

"I'm also a man, you know."

In a heartbeat, slow breaths tickled her face as something warm pressed against her mouth. His face – Garry's face was so close, closer than she had ever seen it. Soft locks of lavender drooped down, tickling her cheek. With wide red eyes, she absentmindedly took in the beauty of his skin, and the long lashes that gently kissed it. His eyes were closed gently as though he was sleeping. Was this a dream? Or perhaps she was still half-asleep, and Garry was sleeping beside her right now.

That wasn't right.

Something wet parted her lips and slid through.

She squirmed to move away; his fingers behind her neck steeled.

.

Age was a problem. She hadn't even entered her teens, and he was already pass twenty. A good ten years older than her, he shamelessly lusted for her innocence. She was naïve, a clueless child, and rather than discouraging him, it made the whole idea even more enticing. These taboo desires should be a crime, but there was no one to judge his rotten thoughts.

He was just some bum disowned by his family, shoulder-deep in debt and pursuing a dream that was less than promising. She, on the other hand, was the sheltered daughter of a rich man who would ensure her a carpeted life of luxury. He shouldn't even be allowed to look at her, let alone trying to monopolize her as though he had every right to.

They were so different. She was beautiful inside out, while he could only put up a pretty front to hide the ugliness in his heart. He was dirty, contaminated, and attracted to the purity that was her. She loved him, and he adored her to bits. But their feelings were mismatched. He knew she didn't look at him the way he looked at her.

**_Just why did you have to come into my life?_ **

.

Their noses were pressed together as he tested the softness of her lips, lightly sucking on the plump flesh. He liked what was against his mouth, and she didn't have any objection, most likely stunned. Tilting his head for better access, he slipped his tongue through her unguarded lips and ventured to taste their moist inside. It was tender, yet mildly grainy to the touch. Had she been biting the inside of her lips? He should tell her to quit that bad habit.

She gasped, jerking away from him, but the hand he had behind her neck prevented her movement and even pulled her closer to him. Her teeth parted in surprise, and he took the chance to deepen the kiss, thrusting his tongue farther in to find hers. He kept his eyes closed, relishing the feel of her small tongue. There was a muffled moan amidst the wet noises between their mouths and tongues as she weakly fought against his grip. He barely noticed her protest though, too absorbed in licking and exploring her cute little mouth.

Her hold on his other wrist loosened, so he brought his hand to her face, stroking under her jaw, his thumb coaxing her to open up some more. Her tongue hesitantly twitched against his, not knowing whether to push him out or run away from him.

"… Hn… no…" Ib sighed into his mouth as saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth. Her hand shakily made its way up his chin and he untangled his fingers from her locks to run them along her arm. "No!" she whipped her head to the side, palm covering his mouth, denying him of his pleasure.

His eyes shot open and he instantly cupped her cheeks, bringing her back to him. Strong fingers keeping her face still, his lips crashed onto hers more forcefully as he resumed the plunder on her mouth.

**_No good._ **

Wasn't this enough to scare her? She was quivering in his arms. He should stop. He only wanted to scare her, but… She was so cute. The way she limply clung to his shirt, how she tried to hold her breath; her innocent reactions only further excited him. He became bolder, delving deeper, running his tongue on aligned teeth, lapping at spilling saliva. Her knees couldn't support her and she was beginning to slip from his hold, so he let her lie down on the couch, but never set her mouth free. She continued to moan. What was this? She was missing a tooth – a second molar if he remembered the name correctly, and the new replacement was already coming out.

Of course, she was that young. He should be bothered, but all that was in his head then was…

**_Cute…_ **

He finally broke from the kiss, slowly withdrawing his tongue as transparent drool dripped from his mouth to hers. He still wanted more, lingering near her lips. Her dizzyingly hot breaths wafted against his face as she gasped for air, "… Garry…" she mewled, burgundy eyes glazed, tempting him into planting another kiss on her lips.

**_So cute._ **

He should stop.

Garry pushed his thumb into her mouth and played with her shy tongue as she breathed heavily. As he drew his leg onto the couch for a better vantage over her, she let out a whimper. Her narrowed eyes were filled with fright. She tried to stop his hand, but was still too out of it to put up a proper fight.

He really should stop.

He removed his saliva-covered thumb from her mouth and brought it to his own, licking it before her bewildered gaze. Using the same hand, he reached for her face once again, but she flinched from the touch. He chuckled darkly and took his hand back to grab her small fingers that were digging into his shirt. He noticed her resistance – however weak it may be, but paid it no heed and proceeded to pull her hand to his lips. The loose sleeve of her shirt easily slipped down, revealing her slender arm whose length he trailed gentle kisses along.

"You see, Ib," he whispered into her ear after nuzzling into the crook of her shoulder, and the girl started underneath him. The smell of lavender he had gotten used to filled his lungs as he grazed his nose up her jawline. It was his own smell, yet it was somehow different on her. Sweeter, more pleasant, intoxicating, and also absolutely satisfying. It was as if she was his, bearing the same scent as him. "I want to do this kind of stuff with you." Placing one last lingering kiss on her closed lips and earning a scared squeak from her, he finally pushed himself off of her. "If you don't want this then don't show up in front of me again, alright?"

Ib hazily blinked, still disorientated by what was happening. It felt like a bad dream. She felt all numb and was still tingling from his… kisses. He kissed her… on the lips. She knew it was called an adult kiss. Only adults did it, so why did Garry… to her… Why did adults even do it? It felt gross, but at the same time- no, it was gross. She wanted to wipe her mouth, but she couldn't seem to muster the strength to lift her hands. Who was this person looking down at her? He didn't feel like Garry at all.

He smiled bitterly for a moment before his face lost any mirth it might have had. "Now scurry back to the bed and lock the door," he put a hand to his face, muttering as he moved away. "Don't open it even if I-"

"N-no!" she cried, grabbing as much of his shirt as she could.

His eyes were a mixture of shock and something else that she couldn't make out, but it scared her. Her body had moved on its own. She was scared, but she didn't want him to leave. She didn't want to never see him again. She didn't want that. Maybe she could persuade him to stay with her without… those disgusting things.

"G-Garry… No…" the girl sobbed, pulling at his shirt as tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked up at his dark orbs, trying to find the words to tell him. Her head, however, was a mess, and she could only utter unintelligent pleas as his face neared hers once more. "No, no, no… Garry…"

"… Seriously… you," he breathed, cupping her small face and thumb tracing the corner of her mouth. She continued to mumble incoherent refusals. Her trembling hand reached for him, and he took it into his own, squeezing. "Ib…" he called and got a weak cry of his name in return. Seeing her all frightened and shaking like this only shot a painful surge of heat to his groin. There must be something wrong with him.

Garry swallowed and pressed her soft palm to his cheek, his eyes never leaving hers. Kissing her wee knuckles, he slid his other hand under her shirt and found the waistband of her cotton panties. There wasn't much resistance from her as he stripped her naked – she was still so defenseless of her body. His fingers pulled the white piece of underwear down her slender legs, and he made sure to feel the smooth skin under his hand as he did. "… I'm sorry," his voice shook, his entire attention on her flat stomach as he peeled the baggy shirt from her. "I don't think I can stop anymore."

.

**_Even if she cries…_ **

Her clothes discarded on the rug, he stared in awe. He didn't know a child's body could make him feel so much, but then, it was _her_ body – it was Ib's. As his splayed hands roamed down her agonizingly small torso, he could feel her shiver under his touch. His eyes burnt the image of her young body into his mind, drinking in the beautiful lithe figure, the fair skin accentuated by the blurry lamp light. His hands slid beneath her round butt cheeks and lifted her hips.

**_Even if she screams…_ **

Ib was confused as to why Garry had taken off her clothes. It was so scary. His hands were grabbing her behind, cold fingertips pressing into her skin, and he held her by her thighs. Her legs placed onto his shoulders and his eyes closed, he started kissing her from the knee up and ultimately stopped at… "A-h…" she stared down at the top of his head in horror. "W-wait, G-Garry, no… d-don't, don't… Garry!" her trembling voice shot up a notch when something wet ran up between her groin, startling her.

Garry assaulted her private part over and over, licking and sucking, making wet sounds with his tongue. She threw her head back, his hot breath steadily brushing her skin, driving her crazy with fright and… something. "A- Sto-p… Th-that's- dir… ty," she cried out between gasps. Garry didn't show any signs of acknowledging her broken words. Frantic, she struggled to break free from his grasp, prying at his hands, gripping at his hair and pushing, but they all proved to be futile. Her legs were firmly kept parted with so little effort from him and all she could do was fight to keep her voice down every time he brought his tongue over her flesh.

"What did you say?" he managed absently between kisses, engrossed in his deed. He constantly took in the musky smell of her mouthwatering slit time and time again, feeling his consciousness and whatever conscience left in it going numb with every whiff. Somewhat sated, he finally relented, but not before tasting her one last time. "There's nothing dirty about you," he half-growled, letting her go.

Which was why he wanted to soil her so bad.

His cock was throbbing.

The sound of her gasping drew his attention back to her cute mouth. Her lips were parted as she panted. She covered her eyes with her hands; wet trails dampened her cheeks. He should feel some kind of guilt, but all the sight did was further turning him on. His heart that had somehow remained still until now started a wild, painful rhythm and he felt the heat gathering at his face. He brought his mouth over her flat breast, savoring the sweetness of her skin for a moment, before moving up to slide his tongue through the gap she'd left for him. She cringed, but didn't fight his kiss this time around and just let him do what he wanted. His hand groped down her slippery entrance and shoved his middle finger inside, and she immediately tensed up, crying into his mouth. Despite having gone limp just moments ago, she started to struggle again as he pushed in and out of her. Trying to close her legs, she attempted a few kicks. He could tell she was still holding back.

She still didn't want to hurt him. The notion squeezed at his chest. He caged the little dear beneath his large frame and distracted her with another kiss; his hand didn't stop, though, even sliding a second digit inside and causing her to cry harder.

Ib squirmed, her strength to fight slowly diminishing as a strange feeling built up where Garry was… Garry's fingers were… She was terrified. First he licked her… and now his fingers were going in somewhere down there. They were so long and big. It hurt. She tried to push him away, only to end up powerless and clinging to his shirt again. As he went on, the pain subsided and gave way to something else. There was a spot that made her all numb, and Garry seemed to keep chafing it as though he knew so. He kept kissing her, too.

Something was coming. It felt like pee, but…

"Auuuah…" she whimpered into his kiss, voice muffled by his tongue twining around hers. Her eyes went wide.

_"Ah-!"_

She clamped down at his fingers, her body jolted as she broke away from his mouth. Garry gave a throaty groan, denied of her lips once again, but he found himself not caring as much. She was so soft inside, so hot, and so… _wet_. He pulled out of her, and looked down at the transparent slime coating his fingers – a thin string connecting them to her entrance. Beautiful. He couldn't help tasting it, sucking at his knuckles for her arousal when her weeping became apparent to his ears. He glanced up at her. She was curled up on her side, shaking as she tried to hide her face.

He ran a hand up her side, ignoring the way she flinched under his palm, and grabbed her shoulder. Gently, he guided her to face him and used his other hand to stroke her tear-stained cheek, brushing the chocolate strands that stuck to her skin. She stared up at him, albeit hesitantly. Her exquisite orbs were filled with confusion and fear.

Ib didn't know where to look. Her faced cupped by Garry's strong hand, she couldn't turn away to hide her crying. She was embarrassed and greatly conscious of her naked body now. She didn't know where to look. Her lids constantly fluttered in order for her to avoid his gaze. She was scared of his piercing blue eyes that now held a dark element to them. They felt so cold, so voided.

Suddenly, he bent down; she squeezed her eyes shut. The kiss that she dreaded never came to her lips, to her surprise, but her cheek. A gentle, chaste kiss.

She peeked through her eyelids to see Garry moving back. He crossed his arms before his stomach and took off his shirt. It startled her. She had never seen so much of his skin; he had never let her. The most she had ever seen was a glimpse at his back when he needed to scratch an itch, or his navel when he slept in. His lean torso was with the slightest hint of muscle. His strong collarbones emphasized the broad of his shoulders; his chest was smooth and his stomach taut. Should she be observing his body so? The realization made her quickly avert her gaze.

Garry was finally rid of his shirt. It was so damn hot. His body was burning up, if it hadn't been all this time already, and the cold night was doing little to cool him down. It was getting harder to breathe as he felt her eyes on him. Her butt was pressing against his crotch. He wanted nothing more than to push himself inside her right then and there, but no.

He snaked his arms under her back and pulled her into a hug.

Not yet.

"G-Garry?" she squeaked as he picked her up from the couch.

Not here.


	22. Stolid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All reasons discarded...he thrust them down the path of no return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! Reader Discretion is Advised

Skin against skin, it was a strange sensation.

His arm wrapped securely around her waist, while the other hooked just above her thighs, keeping her tightly in his embrace. Her entire front was pressed against his, and although she was no stranger to the firmness of his torso, she still found the contact… disquieting. Without any clothing between them, she could feel his skin, hot and sweaty; his heart pounded vividly against hers.

She squirmed inside his hold, trying to get him to let her down. She had always loved it when he scooped her up into his strong arms, but right now, all she felt was dread, not knowing what he might do to her next. With the few glances she managed over her shoulder, she could see that they were heading towards the bedroom. Her mind was so hazy. She didn't know what to do, what to think. His steps were slow, staggering a little as he kissed and breathed at her skin. Her hands shook as she tried to wipe her eyes. Her throat felt blocked and her jaw quivered as she held back her tears. The cold air tingled at her back, but what made her skin crawl was the way his sultry breaths landed on her ear, travelling downward.

His smell of lavender was somehow stronger than normal as he sucked intently at her shoulder. It scared her. Shakily, she took a handful of his hair and pulled lightly in a timorous attempt to stop him. It was a bad decision. He started licking her now, his wet tongue running up the length of her neck, all the way to her chin, forcing her to tip her head back. The arm that snaked around her waist loosened, and she felt his palm creeping up her spine.

A part of her wanted nothing more than to push him away, but it was Garry. If there was one person she didn't reject, it would be him. But then…

"Nn… no…" her voice shook in fright. "Gar-" He shushed her with a kiss, and her eyes instinctively squeezed shut. The world blurred once more.

She was beyond frightened. Why was Garry doing these things to her? Why was he touching her so? It was as if she didn't know him anymore. The Garry she loved was warm, kind and gentle. He was always smiling… always teaching her new things.

He slowly retracted his tongue, and it was her cue to open her eyes. Before she could make out her surrounding, her back met a soft mass of thick blanket.

.

She was so small in his arms. So small, so delicate he was afraid he would hurt her.

But fact was that, he was already hurting her with his lubricious embrace. Tears that she never should have to shed were rolling down the pink tint of her cheeks.

Not wanting to watch her cry any longer, he buried his face into the crook of her neck and started kissing her to distract himself from her sobbing.

It wasn't hard to ignore the guilt clawing at his gut, though. He was numb. Her whimpers tickling his ears, her skin rubbing against his, her searing hot tears landing on his shoulders; everything felt so vivid, yet so surreal. His body didn't feel like his. It was as though someone else, some sick bastard had taken control of him. But he knew better than to blame some nonexistent alter ego. He was doing this to her, and he should stop. His precious Ib was crying. Did he really want that? Surely, she hated him now. Did he really want that?

_**No…** _

A soft tug on his hair snapped him out of his trance. A dark love bite stained her pale shoulder. He licked it and made his way up the slender column of her neck, feeling her moans vibrating against his tongue. She protested. He didn't care.

_**No… but…** _

He brought his mouth over hers and forced his tongue inside once more.

_**What good is there in stopping now?** _

They could never go back like before now. She would never look at his face again after this, never come near him, never touch him again… never call his name again. It was hopeless anyway, and her small mouth was this cute.

_**Yeah… Why not?** _

Garry resumed his strides towards the bed, breaking the kiss as he lain her down. As soon as he moved back to push the heavy blanket away, she shuffled around him, trying to get away. That wouldn't do now, would it? He easily caught her from behind and confined her frail form between his arms. The sweaty skin on her back was so sweet as he traced his tongue up her spine. He felt her throat tremble under his caressing fingertips, but could barely hear her weak cry of protest. He thought he heard her call his name and absently muttered hers in return.

The mirror opposite of the bed reflected a man, a blue-eyed stranger with an impassive look as he pinned the young girl down on the mattress. Garry lowered his gaze. He really was going to do this… wasn't he?

_**I don't want to stop anyway.** _

He'd given her the chance to run. He was at his limits now. It was his turn to be selfish… right?

Grabbing her shoulder, he made her lie on her back and cupped her face, coercing her to meet his eyes. With only the dim lighting from outside the garden, he could see her cheeks flushing a deep red as she sheepishly averted her equally red gaze. A flicker of pride flared inside him. He brushed his thumb over her rosy skin as their hot breaths blended together. So lovely.

Wiping away her stagnant tears, he couldn't help planting another kiss onto her soft slips. There were small hands charily pressed at his chest, nudging him away, but he didn't budge. He stared down at her, the lovely little thing that she was.

_**This girl… I want.** _

He wanted to be inside her. He wanted to make her his. God, his cock ached for her.

Garry kissed her cheek, her neck, then her collarbone. A kiss onto the middle of her chest made her flinch, but he kept on moving downward until he reached her smooth mound. Her scent was delightfully strong. Taking her pink core into his mouth once more, he swirled his tongue around her small bump, causing her to cry out in surprise. She jerked in his grip as he flicked and sucked, her thighs clamping around his face. He relished the pressure between her tender vises, peeking his eyes open for a mere moment before closing them again, and delved as far as he could into her. He hungrily ravished her virgin entrance. She tasted heavenly, and her choked sighs were music to his ears.

.

Ib shuddered as she felt his hasty breaths travelled down her stomach. She knew what was coming, but still hoped she was wrong. She wasn't. Garry brought his large mouth over her sensitive flesh below and started licking her again. He persistently sucked between her thighs, his hard tongue wriggling deep into her. She was feeling weird again, and Ib didn't like this foreign sensation. Why was Garry doing this? What was the point in doing all of these things to her?

In the silence of the night, all that could be heard were the sound of him sucking between her groin and her throaty moans. Clenching up did nothing to stop his tongue from violating her lower part, and she could only bite her lips to keep the shameful pitch of her cries down.

That strange pressure was building up yet again, around the place where his mouth was…

Her fingers dug into the bed sheet as she tried to contend the feeling, but it proved to be harder every time his tongue entered her. She was… almost there. It was chaos inside her chest, her breathing all cluttered and her mind a mess. Her hand found its way to her mouth to help muffle the embarrassing sounds she was making. Where his tongue traveled was so hot and wet, and she was ashamed, afraid she'd had wetted herself. The girl nearly forgot to breathe as the wild sensation climbed to its apex.

"… Hua-!" Before she could let out the scream, Ib bit at her knuckles. Her entire body contracted in another short, uncontrollable spasm that she couldn't understand. Her head blanked for a second before she vaguely registered that Garry was gently kissing the teeth mark she had left on her skin. He then let her hand go. She could feel the bed creak as he moved back. Were they finally done? What would happen now? She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, consciously closing her thighs. For a short moment, she allowed her body to relax against the bed, hands going limp.

There was a small zipping noise, but she didn't have the mind to question it. The bed shifted underneath her again, and she saw Garry towered over her once more. Something told her they weren't done, no matter how much she wished to believe otherwise.

Garry ran a hand up her slender legs, guiding her to open them, while his other hand pulled at his pants and briefs. She obeyed his silent command and let him in between her thighs. He really was going with this. His breath was stuck in his throat as he swallowed. To hell with everything. He would make her his. They both were ready… physically anyway. He bent over her wee form and held her delicate hand, lacing his fingers with her. Stroking her round cheek, he gained her attention and licked her soft lips to ask for permission. She was startled by the contact but still allowed him to slide his tongue inside. He fought to be the utmost gentle with this one kiss, hoping it could calm her. Even just a little was still better than nothing. Ib eventually relaxed into the kiss. He would like to kiss her forever, but… ah God…

He slowly broke away, after flicking her soft tongue one last time, so that she could take a breather. But honestly that was just an excuse. He looked down at himself, and gave her an absent smile, gingerly moving into position.

Ib blinked through the haze of her tears. Seeing his smile, though wry, was enough to soothe her qualms. His face drew closer, blue eyes trained on hers.

_The Garry she knew… was always smiling._

The bony back of his hand stroked her cheeks as he kissed her forehead. He crouched down and propped an arm above her head. She slightly turned away from him – the pungent smell of sweat and lavender was making her giddy. Something started prodding at her crotch. Her hand, shaking, found the hard curve of his bicep and tried to hold on – it gave her the feeling that she still had the least bit of control over her own body.

_He was gentle, warm… and was always…_

.

Something… was pushing…

"…!" She gasped, vaguely realizing what was happening a tad too late. "N-" Whimpering and glancing down, she couldn't see anything aside from his obstructing shoulder. The force wasn't stopping. She squirmed and fought to get away, but he didn't let her. The thing kept pushing up against her. So thick. It was starting to hurt. "D-Don't…" She heard his breathless whisper of her name and only became more frightened.

_...Teaching her new things._

"No, no- Garry-!" she involuntarily screamed as pain engulfed her senses.

.

Garry held her tight as her scream tore through the quiet room.

Tight…

Hot…

His body rigid, he breathed slow and shallow, reeling from what could be a once in a life time sensation. Face buried in her soft scented mass, his muddled mind vacantly perceived her broken cries, her blunt nails digging into his arm and ribs. It took his everything to keep himself from bucking his hips. Her fragile form was trembling taut underneath him, and she wheezed in acute gasps with tear-filled whimpers.

"… No… st-op…"

He was… inside. Though he couldn't go all the way, it wasn't like that mattered. They were connected. She was his. His heart throbbed painfully. The cacophonic noises were drowning out her feeble voice. He clung onto his waning awareness and held her tight, hoping to calm her with the firm hug. Her tremors only became worse. He didn't know what to do. He tried to catch her gaze, but her eyes were squeezed shut from pain. She was in pain… and crying. What was he doing?

"Shhh… Ib…" he managed, gently kissing her cheek and ear.

"… Garry... it– hurts…"

"J… just a bit… more…" He was running out of breath; his mind was going blank. "… Please, Ib."

"Garry…."

He started moving. In and out. Steadily gaining speed. She was so soft. He took hold of her thighs and penetrated as deep as her young body would allow him. She cried out. Her moans mingled with his raspy sighs as he captured her mouth in impetuous kisses. The bed creaked. Sweat dampened his jawline, transparent drops rolling down his feverish skin. He carved himself into her, and welcomed the clawing at his sides. Mindlessly calling her name, his thrusts only became more manic as he grew closer…

… _**out.**_

His vision was blurry. Her eyes were dead. His hand found hers in the midst of the craze, grasping.

_**Pull out…** _

His breath hitched inside his throat, and his muscles shuddered.

_**Pull out!** _

"… Ah-!" Fingers scrunching up the bed sheet, he gave one last thrust and buried himself deep inside her.

And he stilled, contracting, teeth grinding, as he took his release.

He was done. It was over. Everything was over.

Garry slightly eased back to check on her. She lay limp, shaking, unmoving. They were still connected. Any mirth he might have had was gone. Her ruby eyes reflected nothing as tears streamed down her flushed skin. His guts twisted. Heavy beads landed on her nose and cheek, and he finally realized he, too, was crying. He raised a paralyzed hand to his face, jaw hardening. He screwed his eyes shut, squeezing out the burning tears. He of all people had no right for them.

* * *

" _Isn't this great? Now she's mine~" his voice sang with a sickeningly gleeful tone._

Garry bolted up from under his heavy blanket, eyes opening to the blue hue that coated his room. The air was mercilessly cold, but it did nothing to distract him from his image in the dresser mirror. He stared at himself with bewildered blue orbs. What…? The memories of last night returned to him in an instant and condemned him in dread. Ib and him… No… A realization struck him and gripped at his heart. Ib! His eyes darted around the room. He was all alone on the suddenly massive bed, whose both blanket and sheet were greatly disheveled.

Slow and heavy beats hammered inside his chest. He glanced out the glass wall. It couldn't be past five. She couldn't have gone anywhere. If anything, she should still be sleeping. Where? Here. But she wasn't here.

… _**Then she's not here.**_

He slowly ran a hand through his tousled hair. Dry lips parting, he disbelievingly muttered "… A… dream?"

The doorbell suddenly chimed.


	23. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after...time to take responsibility.

Dream? Garry couldn't bring himself to believe last night was all a dream. The warmth, the softness, the moans… the sinful pleasure. He wiped his mouth with a sweaty palm. That kind of realism had been a dream? He remembered kissing her breathless, the feel of her smooth skin as he held her near. Her shaky fingers grabbing onto him, her hold tightening with each thrust. Pulling the blanket over her small, trembling shoulder, he had watched as she slowly gave into exhaustion.

The girl should still be here with him, but she wasn't. It must have been a dream, then.

He swallowed, eyes searching the room. Something was amiss. _Thump._ His heart steadily pounded. _Thump. Thump._

Did he want it to be a dream?

A snort escaped his throat. That was a dumb question. Of course he was glad it had been a dream. Thank God.

So…

_**What is this… disappointment?** _

A shrill ring of the doorbell startled him out of his trance, and the pressure inside his chest worsened. His eyes warily flickered to the open bedroom door, staring out the narrow corridor outside. A soft glow was pouring in from the living room.

He waited for another ring, but it didn't come. The silence that returned somehow seemed more intense than it had been – almost ominous. Had he even heard anything? Outside, the garden lamps hadn't dimmed, and leaves were still glimmering wet with dew. Dawn had yet to come, leaving the sky a cold murky blue. The idea of a visitor at this ungodly hour was silly. He must have imagined it, as he had with many other things. He shouldn't trust himself too much these days.

Another ring resounded through the apartment, proving him wrong— or right.

He dropped back down onto the bed and buried himself under the blanket over his head, opting to disregard the uninvited guest. It was damn cold and he didn't want to leave the bed.

Yet another ring. And another.

And another.

Well, the light outside needed to be turned off anyway. He exhaled in exasperation and kicked the blanket off, his whole torso shuddering uncontrollably as it once again came into contact with the chilly air. His breaths stuttered as he blindly groped around him, trying to locate his shirt. It might have fallen off the bed for all he knew.

Yawning, he attempted a stretch.

!

He winced when the skin along his ribs suddenly stung, his hand shooting across his chest to tend to the pain. _Thump._ What? He blinked, keeping his gaze strictly forward. _Thump._ He moved his hand, albeit slowly.

Scratches. He glanced at his other side. Swelling red scratches… scrawled all over his skin.

_Thump._

In a single moment, the carnal memory became dreadfully vivid. The heat, the tightness, the screams… the raging lust. He continued to stare in disbelief at the telltale marring on his body – disbelief that he actually managed to pass last night as a dream at all. His stomach made an ugly churn and his heart twisted. His mind was empty, his breathing shallow. Not a dream. The doorbell chimed. He shakily got to his feet, eyes searching his surroundings. Something was amiss, all right. She was supposed to be sleeping next to him still. So where was she now?

Garry took unstable steps towards the doorway, frantically looking around as he did even though he knew well there was nothing to find. The biting cold all but forgotten, he darted into the living room. "Ib?" The tall floor lamp had been left on all night; the shirt that he had discarded lay wrinkled on the rug. His teeth ground together. It wasn't a fucking dream. "Hey, where are you?"

He'd done it now. Stabbing hands through his hair, he turned left and right. He'd fucked up.

The clothes that he had stripped from her weren't there. She couldn't have left. Not when it was barely morning. Not in only those… Could she? No way. It was far too cold.

He crouched down and grabbed his shirt. Something fell from its layers as he lifted it from the floor, creating a small clack against the wood. The accursed hourglass was rolling near his foot. At the sight of the ornament, a sudden rush of anger flared inside him. Inexplicable, unreasonable. He was just mad. At the hourglass, at the fact that he hadn't thrown it away, at himself, at the cold— at her absence.

 _Bang!_ He violently slapped the hourglass out of his sight, his hand ramming straight into the table's edge, causing the tea set to rattle dangerously. Garry bit back a curse, glaring at his knuckles to check on the damage.

The fresh bruise was seeping blood, and also… there was a fading white scar.

_._

" _Are you okay, Ib? The glass shattered, after all."_

_The little girl shielded under his towering frame absently nodded, gaze fixated on the pile of ash that once was a friend. He couldn't tell what was going on in her head, but her lethargic look disturbed him. Mary was dead. He should be glad, should feel triumph, but looking at her, nothing but guilt arose. She only burnt a picture. That was all she did. Yet looking at her, it felt like they had killed a person._

_Garry gently pried the 'murder weapon' from her tight, trembling grip and pulled her into a comforting hug, letting her snuggle against him. He looked to the smoldering ash. Honestly, he didn't hold too many sentiments for that painting, and with the adrenaline from wrestling with it, nearly getting killed by it, still flooding his system, he cared even less._

_A soft touch on his hand. "Garry…"_

"… _Hm?" He glanced down to see Ib had detached herself from him and was carefully wiping blood from the back of his hand. "My hand?" It took a second for it to register in his mind. "Oh, you're right, I cut it… I didn't even notice… It must have just happened." Or Mary had successfully landed a hit on him. He didn't know, but he'd like to believe it was an honorable wound from shielding Ib. Her face changed to one of a subtle frown at his words. "… Well, it's just minor." He curled and uncurled his hand to demonstrate his words. "See?"_

_But she still offered him her handkerchief, and even tied it up for him._

_Her small hands were shaking as she tried ever so hard not to hurt him._

_She was just that gentle of a child._

.

.

Garry blinked out of the reminiscence. He needed to find her.

Suddenly, several loud bangs hammered on the apartment door, nearly scaring him into a shriek. He turned towards the sound, a hand over his prancing heart.

Yet several more impatient bangs. Whoever that was, they were going to get socked.

With the scare fueling his ire, Garry vehemently stormed straight to the entrance, not bothering to put on his shirt, unlocked and yanked the door open.

And he was greeted with nothing but the freezing air that splashed against his naked skin.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, hastily shoving his arms into his shirt, his teeth almost clattering. The dry scratches on his ribs were burning against the fabric. Now, where was his soi-disant visitor? If this was a prank, sworn to god, he would— His eyes fell onto a piece of paper taped to the wall in front of him. And he froze.

 _Garland's coming at 10_ was scribbled in large, black letters.

It took him a whole second to even understand what he was looking at. His chest once again ridden with unpleasant throbs, he took cautious steps towards the note and yanked it from the sliver of tape that kept it to the wall.

_Thump._

He snorted in derision. Here, a piece a paper from unknown sender was telling him something and he was supposed to believe it? The smirk soon slid from his face and he nervously rubbed his mouth, looking to both sides of the empty hallway. There was no one— not that he was expecting otherwise. He looked back to the note, turning it over to see if there was anything else. Nothing. It was true Mr. Garland hadn't shown up all this time even though his secretary had said that he would. With what little Garry grasped about the man's character, it wasn't impossible that Mr. Garland would show up without notifying him first.

It wasn't impossible.

_Thump._

Questions of all kinds swirled through his mind at a dizzying speed. The credibility of this informant, the reason for informing him at all; how he should deal with his benefactor coming over knowing that—

The note was scrunched up in his grip as he headed back inside, slamming the door behind him without meaning to.

"Ib!" he called out for her and covered his mouth as soon as the name started echoing through the apartment. His voice had come out harsher than he intended. The last thing he wanted was to further frighten her. "Ib… look, I know you're hiding somewhere. Please come out," he said loudly, yet as gently as he could manage. "It's okay. I promise I'm not gonna…" he bit his lower lip, unable to form the words that came up in his mind.

"… Please come out," he tried again, but only silence answered him.

He stifled a sigh. This obviously wasn't going to be easy. He was sure she was still here as her sneakers were still on the shoe rack. Ib was just hiding… from him… His jaw hardened. That wasn't right. Ib did not hide from him. Not from him.

Garry tried to take a deep breath. He needed to calm down first. Panicked as he was, he would only make the situation worse. The ticking of an imaginary clock in his mind, however, made him restless. He patted himself down while looking around the room. His phone was lying there on the table – the sight of the furniture reminded him of the aching cut on his hand. The damaged skin was turning a deeper shade than before, and the underlying scar was stark against the red bruise. He placed his other hand over it and closed his eyes in another sigh.

.

Five thirty. Garry pocketed the phone, tossing the crumpled note at the table, and marched to the study in large strides. His study was the warmest place in the apartment, and he hoped he would find her inside. There were only so many places that could be relatively called a hiding spot, and leaving out the bedroom – where she had clearly fled from – and the locked closet, only the study and the bathroom were left.

"Ib?" He took care to open the door as slowly as possible despite his hurry. If she was on the other side, he wouldn't want to scare her.

The light went on with a press of his fingers, but he didn't see her. His study was small, with only his desk and the musty bookshelves packing the space. It was impossible to stay hidden, so clearly she wasn't there.

He switched the light off with a soft curse and headed for the bathroom. Upon arriving in front of it, he clicked his tongue. Why hadn't he noticed earlier? The door was closed. The fucking thing was closed. He _never_ left the bathroom door closed.

_Ka—chak._

Locked.

Garry slowly let go of the doorknob as the beating inside his chest became unbearably louder. She was on the other side… and she had the door locked. Yes, why wouldn't she? Yes, yes; there was a lock after all. Having lived alone all this time, he forgot there was such a thing called a lock on his bathroom door. Not that it was something worthy of concerns right now. Staring at the wooden barricade in front of him, he just didn't know what to do. His throat felt dry as he tried to come up with the appropriate words – and he feared there wasn't any. What were the right things to say? Should he even say anything at all?

"… Ib," he spoke in a shaky tone. "You're in there, right? Please open the door." He placed his arm onto the door and leant in closer. "… I'm-I'm-I'm not gonna do anything. Promise. I only want to check o-on you."

Garry was beginning to hate this silence. It was so eerie and unsettling. A part of him was afraid she was unconscious. And that part was growing by the seconds as he impatiently waited. "God damn it, Ib…" he muttered to himself, pressing his forehead to the door.

He had to get her out of there.

* * *

In the darkness that her eyes had gotten used to, the little girl tensed up as she heard thumping footsteps hurried past her on the other side of the wall. He hadn't figured out where she was… not yet anyway. She knew it was only a matter of time before she is found. There just wasn't anywhere to hide.

She curled up tighter in the corner, burying her face into her arms. Her eyes were burning, threatening to spill, but her tears had long dried out. She brought a hand up and rubbed her eyes. Ma had told her she shouldn't rub her eyes because it was bad for them, but a few more times couldn't hurt. Her fingers, so cold that they were hurting, were a kind of relief for her swollen lids. She hated this. She felt so miserable.

The wooden walls were thin. Though boggled, her mind was still able to vaguely register his voice as he assured her it was okay; but as much as she wanted to respond— as much as she wanted to trust him, her voice wouldn't come out, nor would her body move. That place between her legs was still sore, and she still couldn't understand why things had turned out this way.

_Ka—chak._

The sound of the doorknob turning made her stomach drop.

He was outside. Right outside that door. And he told her to open it. However…

The memory from last night haunted her. She had spent all night replaying them, wondering if she had done something wrong that he had to punish her like that, or if she was just stuck in a bad dream. They had been so happy together, _she_ had been so happy. So… what had gone wrong? It all felt so surreal, yet, at the same time… real. His touch was still palpable on her body and the unfamiliar low hum of his voice still rang her eardrums. _Don't open it. Even if I tell you to. Don't open it. Don't open it._

Letting out a choked whimper, she pulled her legs closer to her chest and sank further into the corner. That closed door, it was the only way she knew to protect herself from him. She would not open it.

* * *

The metal jingled between his fingers as he exited his bedroom. He held back yet another sigh, feeling as though he was on a death march. It was probably better to wait until she felt secured enough to come out or unlock the door on her own, but he couldn't bear to just let her be inside that… that _freezer._ Dressed as she was, there was no way she was fine. He hoped she had made use of the towels he left inside. Though used, at least they would be providing her with a little of the much needed warmth.

As he approached the door, he looked through the keys on the chain and singled out the one labeled _bathroom._ He never thought the day he finally had a use for these would be for something like this. The key inserted, he slowly turned it inside the doorknob. He tried to do it as quietly as possible, and his heart tightened when a damnable loud _chak_ resounded, announcing that the door was no longer locked.

Suddenly, he wasn't all too eager to enter.

Garry gripped at the front of his T-shirt, willing his heart to stop. "I-Ib," he called, his voice shaking still, and waited for the expected silence. He was afraid of what he would find on the other side. "I'm coming in… I'm just coming in, so please don't be alarmed."

He grabbed the ice-cold knob and carefully twisted. The door made a cringing creak as he stepped into the darkness inside. The room was freezing. Marble tiles were numbing against his feet and the raw air made his throat hurt. And she had been in here for what could possibly have been the whole night. He wasn't sure what he was feeling. Worry? Anger? Guilt? Fear? Nausea?

As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he could make out a small figure hastily scuttling away from him and into the far corner. His first instinct was to immediately run to her and see if she was all right, but he managed to stop himself. She wasn't going anywhere. He must not fuck up any more than he already had.

"… Honey, are you all right?" Of course not. She couldn't be; but what else could he say? "… I'm going to turn on the lights, okay?"

There was no answer. It was most likely a no anyway.

A deep breath.

Garry carefully flicked the switch.

A golden light illuminated the room, and there in the corner across from the shower, she stood looking at him warily. "Ib…" In spite of his better judgment, he found himself striding across the room to get to her. It wasn't like any more harm could have come to her, seeing as he was the only threat around, but he was still so glad to see and know that she was fine… relatively. He hadn't missed the way she flinched when he took the first step towards her. She looked like she wanted nothing more than to flee from the spot, her red eyes just _begging_ him not to come near. But he did, and he had never seen her more frightened than now. The look on her face made him stop in his track.

He opened his mouth to speak, but the words died in his throat. He was at a loss of what to say, of what to do, of what to even think.

A clear of hoarse throat. A strained smile. "H-hey… are you cold, sweetie?" Another two steps and she was already in arm length. The girl tried to back further up against the corner. He knew he shouldn't but he ignored it. Bending his tall frame, he tried to keep his hand from shaking as he offered it to her. "You must be freezing." Silence. "Come. Let's… get you changed… and I'll fix you something hot afterwards." Silence. "… C-cocoa sounds nice, don't you think?" His smile was faltering. It didn't look like she had any intention to take his hand, and her eyes were full of fear. God, he'd really fucked up.

He got down on his knees, right hand still extended. "… Please, Ib," his voice was but a whisper, choked and beseeching. "Everything's okay, I promise."

She was so close. He just wanted to pull her into his embrace right now.

_**Come, Ib.** _

But her hands remained clenched behind her back. Chapped lips pressed into a thin line, she averted her gaze.

_**No.** _

It hurt. His chest hurt.

_**No…** _

He just wanted her to take his hand. Was that so much to ask?

His hand dropped to his side. His smile was gone now, replaced by a wry look. "I guess it's too much to ask… eh…" Not good. His voice was breaking. "Gosh…"

Trying to hide his eyes behind his bang, he got to his feet and reached for the towel he had hung on the shower's door handle. It wasn't much, but it was better than her current attire. He threw in onto her, frowning as he noticed the way she seemed to shrink away as though she was going to get hit. "Please, just… at least cover yourself up," he muttered without any strength in his voice and turned on his heel.

He couldn't remember how he had managed to drag himself out of the bathroom, or how he had come to sit here, knees bent, next to its closed door. What should he do? What should be done? He should get her warmer clothes at least, but would she want anything from him right now? She was supposed to have taken his hand. So irritating. He couldn't concentrate. So sickening. In his head was a mishmash of images from last night and just now. He remembered how beautiful she had been underneath him, and he remembered the pitiful mess she was now.

Garry wiped his face with his left hand. He didn't want to use his right hand, leaving it limp next to his thigh. It felt heavy. It was a hand that she didn't take.

She. Was supposed. To have taken. His. Hand. But she hadn't.

She looked like she hadn't gotten a blink of sleep. Her hair seemed to have lost its lovely luster, matte and disheveled; her skin was pasty pale and there were unsightly bags under her swollen eyes. Her eyes, the exquisite red that had always held nothing but admiration for him, now only reflected fear and terror. It was as if she was looking at a monster. In his baggy shirt, her small body only seemed that much more vulnerable as it shook. Yes, she was shaking. Visibly shaking, either from the cold or from his presence – and how he prayed it wasn't the latter. The corners of his eyes were burning again. If only he could just gather her into his arms and give her all the warmth that he had. If only he could run his fingers through her soft fall and untangle any knots hindering its flow. Anything to ease this gnawing guilt.

She was clearly traumatized. So frangible, so innocent still.

He had hurt this girl he loved so much, and to think a sick, sick part of him had found her pain-filled moans absolutely delightful. To think he had actually felt proud he was making her 'feel' for the first time. He couldn't breathe. This guilt was crushing him. Something. He had to do something. He should just go back inside, grab her and make sure she was okay. There was nothing wrong. He knew what was best, after all. In the first place, things had gotten to this point because she hadn't listened to him.

Right.

He could keep telling himself that, or he could come to terms with the fact that he'd screwed up. Not only his life, but hers as well. Garry torpidly combed his hair back, hugging his head.

The seconds oozed by in dead silence. He kept staring out in front. This was no time to stay idle, he knew, but he couldn't seem to give a damn. Screw his benefactor. Everything was over anyway. The man could withdraw all the benefits and kick him out for all he cared. She was the only reason he'd been forcing himself to stay here. His only concern now was taking care of her, but she didn't even want him near.

Then again, it didn't have to be him now, did it? Since when had he started to think so highly of himself? Surely, it was ever since he managed to comfort her whereas her parents failed to. Well, time to wake up. Let alone being the only one, he wasn't even fit to be caring for her.

With much reluctance, Garry took out his phone and dialed.


	24. Trash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A friendship destroyed...all to salvage another that had already crumbled.

_His thumb hovered over the number, hesitating. His breathing unconsciously ceased. He was worried for her, yes, but he was also scared. He was so scared. His heart was throwing a tantrum, his freezing hands shaking for a different reason. Nothing was supposed to matter, but… The moment he pressed this number, it would connect him with 'reality.' He did something, and he would have to take responsibility for it. He would have to…_

_Everything would spiral out of his control the moment someone else knows… But wasn't it already so? He never had any control to begin with._

_This silence was driving him crazy. He started tapping his finger on the floor with his free hand. Tok tok tok. Nervously, he continued the rhythm. He was fucking scared. He never meant for any of this to happen. He just loved her so, so much. She was so beautiful, even more so when tainted. He made love to her. He wasn't wrong. He had stayed with her like she wanted, so in return he had gotten what he wanted. What he wanted. What she wanted. What they both wanted. What he wanted. What she wanted. What. They. Both. Wanted._

_The things they wanted were not that much different._

_Maybe no others would have to know about this. He could fix this by himself. Ib wouldn't tell anyone, so if he kept his mouth shut, no one would have to know. He could sweep this all under the rug. Yes. He would slowly fix this. He just needed to get through this current predicament._

_He locked the screen of his phone and got to his feet, eagerly grabbing the doorknob. The cold metal sent a chill along his skin. He blinked and looked down at the knob inside his hand._ Just twist, push and go from there. _He kept on staring. That guy was whispering somewhere._ Open it, open it.

_He tightened his grasp on the doorknob._

* * *

The door abruptly clacked opened and invited an icy breeze inside. A hooded figure stepped into the darkness of the apartment, shivering from the cold wind that sent her long hair fluttering. With hands shoved deep inside her jacket's pockets, she pushed the door shut with her shoulder and let loose a sigh of relief, thankful to get away from the chilling temperature outside.

"All right, you oversize baby. I'm here," she said loudly, pulling the hood of her jacket down as she locked the door behind her. It wasn't like she was complaining, but the fact that she could walk in to the apartment without having to wait for Garry to open the door for her was mighty odd.

" _Hey, can you come over… please?"_

" _Nnn… what…?" she had still been half-asleep, curling up under her blanket. "Garry… do you have_ any _idea-"_

" _Please," he had somehow managed to cut her off with just a whisper. "Door's unlocked so just come in."_

S _he_ left doors unlocked, not that paranoid pussy, not even on purpose; and that was her first clue that something was wrong, and the reason why she had frozen her ass getting here. Someone should be glad she still lived on the complex next to his – and even then, the short walk had been tortuously long.

Garry's hurried footsteps from the dimly lit living room could be heard echoing into the corridor. He was coming for her. One hand groping for the light switch, she quickly patted down her disheveled hair, or at least the parts that _felt_ disheveled – what she wouldn't give for a mirror right now. Garry's cryptic phone call hadn't really given much of a leeway for a brush through her hair. The light was on, and this. Friggin'. Cowlick. Wasn't. Going. Away! She slid her handbag down her arm and dropped it on the floor next to her. Giving her hair one last comb of her fingers, she bent down to take off her boots.

"Scarl," without having to look, she could feel him approaching her through the vibration along the floor. "H-hey… T-thanks… for coming." His voice was… How should she put it? He always talked with a certain falsetto, but right now there was no hint of it in his husky mumbling.

"Yeah, yeah, save the pleasantries. Give me a good reason _,"_ shesaid, still untying the laces. "And it'd better be damn good 'cause you did not just yank a girl out of her beauty sleep at six AM _Sunday_ to swat a spider for you." Oh yes, pathetic as it might sound, it had happened before. As she stepped out of her boots, she noticed an unfamiliar pair of sneakers on the shoe rack, too small to even consider it adult's, let alone male's. Before she could put much of a thought in to it, however, a strong hand grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the apartment.

"H-hey, Garry, what gives?" she struggled to keep up with him, stumbling at places, and it was only because of Garry's solid grip that she hadn't planted her face to the floor. It really hurt though. He hadn't been kidding when he'd said he was unnecessarily strong. "Ow, Garry!" she put up a bit of resistance when he continued to pull her into the living room without a word. "Let go. I can walk on my own!"

"Just come," was his muttered reply. His hold on her did loosen a bit, but he still firmly pulled her along. They headed past the sofa set and abruptly stopped for no reason – but she passed it off as him finally listening to her.

"Okay, Garbear, explanation. Now," she snarled in a low voice, unconsciously matching his whispered tone. "What's with the hush and push?"

His blue eyes traveled from her to the bathroom door, and back to her again, his hand rubbing his mouth – he did that a lot when nervous. She saw his jaw work to tell her something, but no sound came out; his grasp on her arm tightened. "What is it?" she tried to look into his eyes, but he kept averting them with the slightest turn of his head.

"… out…"

"Hm? What was that?" she leant in closer. Garry's face was pale, his lips quivering as he struggled to repeat the words to her.

"… P-please, g-get her out of there for me."

For a moment, she didn't understand what he was talking about. But then, something clicked. She realized… the bathroom door was closed.

* * *

She felt so exposed. She wanted to turn the lights off and hide in the darkness again, but the thought that she would be walking towards him pinned her to the spot.

Ib had settled back down into the corner, leaving Garry's towel on the floor. Her body shook uncontrollably with only his shirt on, but if she could, she would rather not wear it at all.

Garry left. She was glad that he did, but at the same time, she felt abandoned. She remembered the wry disappointment on his face when she had refused his hand. Did he hate her now? She didn't want that. But what would she do if he touched her again… in places she had been taught to never show another? It hurt and she hated him for that, but she still cared for him so much. He was so important— she thought he cherished her too, so why had he hurt her so?

The sound of the knob turning got her clambering onto her feet with the thought that he might be coming in again. She had wanted to lock the door, but for the same reason that she hadn't turned off the light, the door remained unlocked. Alarms blared inside her head when the door swung open, but there was nothing she could do but stand there.

To her relief and bewilderment, an unfamiliar lady with long silver hair was standing in the threshold. Her relief was short-lived, though. Next to the young woman, holding the door opened was Garry; the sight of his lavender hair made her heart skipped a beat.

Ib tried to collect herself as the marble seeped its icy bite through her thin shirt, prickling the skin on her back. She began to fret the existence of this lady. Who was this stranger that Garry had obviously brought here? Wasn't it already enough that he had seen her shameful side? Now someone she didn't know was seeing her miserable state. He knew she didn't like strangers. They were all monsters with their curious gazes and prying eyes. She wanted so much to just hide behind his tall frame like she always had, but right now… even he was a monster.

* * *

Scarlet whipped around, red eyes glaring at him in disbelief. "What the—!" She half-shouted, but stopped herself, grabbing him by the shoulder of his shirt and dragged him to a side, away from the threshold. "What the hell, Garry," she lowered her voice to a hiss. "What the hell!"

His chest tightened at her angry words, a part of him wondering if something had happened to the little girl since he left her inside. When he had opened the door for Scarlet, he hadn't dared look. He didn't want to see that fearful expression on her face again. His cowardly heart was almost painful as he imagined the worst. His voice hoarse and stuttering, he held up his hands, "L-look, I-I-I know this is very bad…" He wanted to calm the blonde down, but she only seemed to get even more pissed off when he failed to give her an explanation. It was hard enough already to keep his mind… functional…; her piercing gaze only served to give him more unease. Someone knew now, and although he had been preparing himself ever since he ended the call, Garry still wasn't ready. Every fiber of his body was shaking and he just wanted to freak out right now. The only thing that kept him from going into hysteria was… He didn't know what it was; he just knew he had to stay… sane.

It was a long shot, calling Scarlet here. They had only been friends for a mere two years, and he honestly didn't know what she would do.

"For goodness' sake, tell me this is a bad prank!" she growled, fed up with his incoherent stammering.

"Scarl, just…" he ran a hand over his mouth, gesturing at the open door behind her. "Can you—"

"No!" the girl took a step back from him. She refused to listen to his attempt to speak, holding a finger up at him, "My god, Garry, no no no no no no," she paused, looking over her shoulder and then back at him. "No! You did not just call me over to clean up after your mess."

"Please, I-I can't— she—"

"Garry, Garry. _No_ , I do not want to get involved." She turned to leave.

"Wait, I—"

" _Don't._ Touch me," she sibilated each word, but he refused to back down, walking around her to block her departure.

"… Look, she's been like that the whole night, we can't just leave her be—"

"There is no ' _we_ ,' and _you_ can't just guilt trip me into this."

"She's… she's scared… and cold— you _know_ how cold it is in there. I've turn the heater up, but I don't think—"

"I. Don't. Want. To know. Why did you even call me? Day one I made it clear—"

"Scarlet," he angrily grabbed her by the shoulders.

They stared at each other, and both went silent – the look of surprise on her face was mixed with the slightest trace of apprehension. He let go of her with a muttered apology. His temper was getting the better of him again, and the last thing Garry needed was another girl terrified of him. He had to calm down. He turned away for a moment, biting his lip, before finding the courage to face Scarlet again. "Scarlet, please, I-I'm…" The thought of Ib made the corners of his eyes stung, and his voice trembled. "I'm not asking you to help me. Just please, _please,_ help _her_."

Red eyes narrowed at him with unreadable emotions. He was tempted to look away – they reminded him too much of the girl he had hurt. The seconds quietly ticked by as he stood tensed, as though waiting for a verdict that could end his life.

"Sorry, but no," she threw her hands up, seemingly exhausted.

His chest tightened. To hell with it. He swallowed and sucked in a breath. "… I know about your father…"

Scarlet tilted her head; wide, unblinking eyes glared at him threatening to shred him to pieces. "How…" she said through gritted teeth.

He stood his ground, his knuckles gripping white. "Please, Scarlet."

"Low blow, Garry," the girl hissed. She glanced at the doorway of the bathroom and folded her arms, her head nodding. "All right," she said in a high-pitched tone. "All right."

His whole being relaxed as he let go of a breath he didn't realized he was holding. It was fine that she hated him for this, as long as Ib would be taken care of. "Thank y—"

"So what did you do?"

.

.

.

"… Huh?"


	25. Batsu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He should be damned...but he'd be damned if he ever admits that.

_When it rains, it pours…_

* * *

What had he done?

Garry felt the ball of dread settling down in his chest. He was sure Scarlet already knew, so why ask still? To mock him? Look down on him? To make him spell it out and rub it in his face? He wasn't about to play her game. Scarlet quirked an eyebrow at him, showing no intention to let her question slide. She wanted an answer, and he could just give her one. See here… the answer was simple, so damn simple. But for that very reason, he couldn't find it in him to say it out loud.

"You already know." He lowered his voice, feeling conscious that it wasn't just Scarlet who could hear him. He reached back and pushed the bathroom door so that it was more closed than opened.

"No, I don't," she spat back. "I _think_ you did something, and, god forbid, press a knife to my back if it pleases you, I am not setting one foot into that room until I _know_."

His teeth ground together. What was he supposed to say? He had forced himself onto an eleven-year-old girl and smeared his lust all over her. He had done it, and loved it. Crossing the line had blurred any common sense he might have had left. He thirsted for her like a desert thirsted for rain, and every kiss only made him crave her more. Even as she cried and pleaded, a part of him was convinced deep down she enjoyed it and felt even remotely the same way he did. So he never stopped.

Oh yes, he loved every single second of it.

_I raped her, and I fucking loved it._

If only he could spat those words out and see the look on Scarlet's face then. He could've sworn he had hated this girl all his life. He hated, _hated_ those… those red eyes. So calm and patronizing, as if judging him. What right did she have? She knew nothing. The things that he had been through, the depth of his feelings… this girl knew jack. His fists curled tight by his sides.

"Spineless chicken." At his silence, she hurled him an insult.

His hands started to shake despite him gripping them so tight he could feel the bones of his knuckles jutting out against his skin. Then again, it was because of his grip that they were shaking in the first place. He felt so restricted. He just wanted to lash out at this annoyance in front of him. He imagined, for a swift moment, seizing her by the neck, stopping short of crushing her windpipe. But something was keeping him back. It wasn't enough. This wasn't enough. Where was it? That final push so that he could blame the circumstances and just lose control. She was right; he was still a coward.

"… I touched her," he finally said, eyes on the floor.

Rape wasn't the right word. It was too violent a word. He was gentle. He cared.

He loved her.

An exasperated sigh broke his train of thoughts. "How far?"

He glanced up from under his bangs to meet with her piercing red gaze. "What?"

_**Don't judge me.** _

A roll of the eyes. "How far did you go?"

_**Don't judge me.** _

"Garry."

He bit his lip.

His left ear rung abnormally painful for a slap that barely echoed in the quiet room. His silence had told her all she needed to know. Scarlet brushed past him without another word and closed the door behind herself.

It had been a mistake calling her here. He uncurled his hand and raised numbed fingers to his burning cheek, his throat clogging up.

His love wasn't a crime.

* * *

Dirty.

She felt so dirty even as she exited the steaming shower. The biting cold was now a distant memory, yet her body still shivered every so often. She remembered. The memories were so vivid she could have sworn his hands still roam her body even now. His voice, the hoarse sighs that rumbled her eardrums. His rough fingertips raked at her sides, and greedy kisses that smothered her. Dizzying pain and wambling caress. She just wanted to go back under the hot water and maybe, finally— she would feel clean. But Ib knew from her wrinkly fingers that she had stayed in there longer than anyone would have liked it.

Standing in front of the lavatory mirror, she waited in a daze, not at all eager. The droplets of water tickled her cheek and neck as they seeped and rolled from her hair. Ib brought a hand up to wipe the itch away. She felt like crying again. The rims of her eyes were prickling with new tears as she fought to keep them in. Scarlet could be back anytime now with a new towel – one that wouldn't smell so much like Garry – and the last thing she wanted was to show the stranger any more of her miserable side.

She looked into the mirror to make sure her face remained expressionless and briefly wondered just how much of an embarrassment she had been since yesterday. Ray was wrong. She should never have taken his advice. Like a fool, she had opened up and laid her feelings bare. Like an idiot, she rambled her thoughts aloud. Look where it had gotten her.

Her fingers shakily underlined a tiny red blotch just at the end of her right collarbone. If she closed her eyes, she could still feel his teeth grazing her skin, his hot tongue laving the shell of her ear… the absolute dominance he had held over her body. She had struggled uselessly against the cage that was his chest. That wasn't right. In his arms was supposed to be a place of comfort… _her_ place of comfort.

A chilling jolt broke out where her heart was when the door opened and the silver-haired lady stepped inside, towel and clothes in hand.

Ib discreetly placed her palm over the thumping in her chest. As she received the things from Scarlet, her mind clumsily planned out her course of action. She told herself that she would dry up… dress herself… and then leave…

She was going to leave…

Right?

* * *

Right.

She would have to go home… He would let her go home, right? There was no other way… Somehow, that didn't feel right.

Garry sat on the couch, a leg drawn to his chest, chin resting on his knee. Scarlet had taken the new towel he had brought out and gone back inside the bathroom, leaving him once again alone with his thoughts.

He said thoughts, but he really only had one. Ib. Or to be fair, a million thoughts, big and small, revolving the little girl. He was still fixated on how she had refused his hand. Then there was the problem of getting her out of there. He hoped she was feeling better, but that was unlikely. Poor girl must have been so confused and frightened. Even he was confused. Last night still felt like a dream, and he still couldn't believe he had embraced her. But the pleasure was real. He could still feel it with his entire body. He couldn't even begin to describe the satisfaction of having his libido sated by the girl he loved, the ecstasy in knowing that he had been the one to give her every single sensation she might have been conscious of.

If only he could do something more than just sending a stranger in to take care of her. If only he could make her understand even just a little bit of his feelings for her.

He heard the doorknob turn and thoughts flashed by his mind at the speed of light. Ib was most likely done and coming out. How was he going to face her? Would she even let him? He could already imagine her averting her eyes and scurrying away from him. He needed time that he didn't have to work things out with Ib. He needed to talk with her, but he also needed to send her away as soon as possible. His benefactor was coming, and he didn't want that smarmy bastard anywhere near his Ib.

But what would she tell her parents? He should be able to ask her to keep quiet, but… would she hear him out? After what he had done?

The door opened.

_**Calm down.** _

He couldn't get a single word in as Scarlet refused to listen to him. _I don't want to hear it,_ she said, and it was almost laughable because he wasn't even trying to talk to her. Ib didn't look at him though. She kept hiding behind Scarlet, who was a _stranger_. That wasn't right. _He_ should be the one she hid behind.

_**This can't get any worse…** _

They were leaving. He chased after them and grabbed Scarlet by the shoulder. "Let go. Am I not here to take her home?" Yes. He did want them to leave soon, but not like this. He had to talk to Ib first, and, dammit, it shouldn't be this hard.

_**It shouldn't.** _

.

_**Here's an idea.** _

"Fine." He let Scarlet go and walked passed her, towards the door. "I'll get the door for you." His hand on the doorknob, he turned around. For a moment, his eyes lingered on Ib, who stood a little away from Scarlet. Perfect. She met his gaze and instantly looked to the ground… but this was perfect. Scarlet was giving him an incredulous look, so he cocked a brow at her. With a huff, she started putting on her boots as he anxiously waited for her to finish.

"Let's go, Ib." The blonde stood up straight and walked up to him… and into his reach. Ib was following close behind her, but not close enough.

Garry twisted the knob in his hand, yanking the door open, and took Scarlet by the arm before she could react. He was just about to shove her outside when—

"Oh, am I interrupting something?"

.

.

_**You're fucked.** _

It felt as if a cold, slithering snake was dragging itself down his spine as he turned to face the owner of the _dreadfully_ familiar voice. "… Mr. Garland… sir…" His insides iced over and hit wits vaporized, Garry didn't even think to cover up the fear written all over his face.

The dark haired man simply smiled and lowered the hand that seemed to have been ready to push the doorbell.

Why? It wasn't ten yet, was it?

"U-uncle Leo?" He heard Scarlet muttered behind him, and his eyes widened.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while... I don't particularly interact much on AO3, but just know I appreciate you reading this. :)


	26. Iniquity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These ignorant, oblivious people... what gave them the right to judge?

"I had perfect timing, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, sir." Garry managed to mumble a reply to the man's amused tone without sounding rude. _Just impeccable,_ he thought as he took a seat in the armchair per Mr. Garland's wordless command.

After Scarlet had fled – literally _fled_ from the scene with a clumsily spluttered goodbye – Garry was left alone with his benefactor. Naturally, the man was invited inside, much to Garry's chagrin. The only thing he was thankful for was that the blonde had taken Ib with her.

Walking to the living room with Mr. Garland had been nerve-wracking, to say the least. Judging from the look on Scarlet's face when she saw "uncle Leo," Garry didn't think the man was too fond of him soliciting with her. The thought that impending doom was hanging over his head ironed his back straighter than a bowling lane, and Garry found himself sitting at the edge of his seat. He felt like a guest in his own abode, but to be fair, the man did own the place—and Garry, in a sense.

"Don't worry about that little vixen, okay?" Garry blinked, confused for a moment before realizing the man was talking about Scarlet. Mr. Garland extended a smile that did not reach his eyes. "You wouldn't have been hanging around her all this time if I wasn't okay with it."

He felt chills at the man's word, understanding that he was being kept under a certain degree of surveillance. And he couldn't help but wonder just how much his benefactor had already known about his life, social and personal. It wouldn't be a surprise if the man was aware of last night… But it was probably not the case seeing as they were still leisurely chatting like this.

Garry squirmed in place as he followed Mr. Garland's gaze around the room.

The coffee table was ajar from his frustrated kicking, and there was the towel hanging off its edge. The hourglass was on the rug, off to the side of the sofa set. The pillow and blanket he had brought out last night was shoved into a messy bundle that oozed untidiness just next to where Mr. Garland sat. Everything that entered his vision was pure horror. He partly appreciated that his benefactor – comfortably slouched against the cushion – didn't seem to mind, but Garry still itched to clean everything up to salvage any last bits of his image.

After all, it was only normal to want to look good in front of someone important. And it was also normal for someone important to expect high standards… right?

"I gotta say, kid. You're finally acting your age!"

What seemed like smug admiration flickered in the man's eyes.

Okay, so Mr. Garland wasn't exactly a normal case.

"I… had a busy morning." Garry croaked out his excuse even though there wasn't a need for one. He wasn't bothered by his benefactor's words, but rather their lighthearted nature. It had been a terrible morning, and the chipper demeanour was like an off-key hum that disrupted his dreary pace. It wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Mr. Garland went on to say something, but Garry wasn't paying enough attention to understand. Things just didn't feel right… after what had happened. He should be taking care of Ib, yet was stuck receiving his benefactor. He wasn't up to this. What was there to talk about? A feeling of defiance was simmering somewhere in a corner of his mind. He felt so out of place. He direly needed a minute to himself.

"Garry." Mr. Garland snapped his fingers in quick succession, breaking the haze of Garry's thoughts. "I know I came over early but stay with me now." He loosened his tie, chuckling, and shrugged off his suit jacket. "I said. You still have some sleep in your eyes."

Garry's hand shot up to his face, finger quickly wiping away the dry crumbs at the corners of his eyes. "I'm s-sorry," he mumbled, suddenly aware of how he looked all this time: hair mussed from irritated fingers, and clothes all wrinkled after a night of acting as sleepwear. Feeling overly conscious, Garry meekly corrected his posture. It was then that he thought he saw brown eyes narrowed with enjoyment, and swallowed to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

Mr. Garland told him it was all right, because he'd deliberately come this early to catch Garry off guard and, to quote the man, see a gormless look on his sleepy face. Garry fought not to frown as he heard this.

A cleanly shaven and well-groomed look. A slender build with average height that stood one head shorter than Garry. Leonard Garland was just a normal successful businessman, but Garry constantly regretted not seeing otherwise at first. The amiable, easygoing smile was somehow malicious. The generous gestures were somehow controlling and manipulative… Garry just hoped he wouldn't be sticking around long enough to know for sure what kind of devil he'd signed a deal with.

"You don't seem too surprised that I'm here, though."

Garry's heart skipped a beat as his mind flickered back to the note in front of his door. The note that he had scrunched up and— His eyes fell onto a crumpled ball of paper on the coffee table, right in front of Mr. Garland. His blood ran cold. Garry immediately averted his eyes elsewhere, lest he drew unnecessary attention to the ball of trash. Remembering that he still needed to respond, he looked back to the man.

"Well, I—ve been expecting you to drop by…" he spoke quickly to make up for the delay while praying that Mr. Garland wouldn't be too suspicious about it. Or get curious about the note. "I knew you were back, and… you did want to meet up before." He wasn't lying. For a while now he hadbeen aware Mr. Garland was in town; and he _had_ been expecting the man to come— even if he'd only started doing so mere hours ago. So he wasn't lying to the man. God no. Not to his face.

Mr. Garland didn't hide the disbelieving squint of his eyes, but thankfully didn't question Garry any further. Instead, the man started asking about Garry's study and living condition, like a benefactor should be doing. There was just one thing. He breezed through the questions in a bored tone, not even bothering to listen to half of Garry's answers. At one point, it started to feel like a survey where he only needed to choose yes or no. Garry quickly realized that his benefactor didn't care for the details. Ms. Voltfied was always the one asking questions and keeping notes – which begged the question why the man was here without her.

"Moving on!" The man's tone became animated again, but Garry was slow to catch on to the change. "Tell me about the Lowell's little girl."

* * *

Thick rubber grated over the gravel path as a silver car slowly crawled up to a sign that wrote _Private Driveway – No Trespassing_. It was already past ten o'clock, but the neighborhood was so quiet one could have been convinced the residents were all still asleep.

"I swear…" Scarlet pulled over and set the engine to neutral, foot still stepping on the break. She stared out the tinted windshield, at the gorgeous mansion perching atop the hill they were heading up. "My daddy is well off, but yours is just loaded, isn't he?" she commented conversationally, looking back to the child sitting in her passenger seat.

Ib didn't say a word. Neither did she give any indication that she had heard the older girl. She had. She just couldn't seem to care enough to give a reply even if it was just to be polite; never mind how potentially rude the comment was. She had initially been cooperative because she was thankful for the lady's help… and surprised to find someone with the same red eyes as hers outside of her family. However, in the end, this was still a stranger next to her. And if she hadn't answered to that man whom she loved so much, why should a stranger be treated any different?

Her hands habitually searched for the fabric of her skirt, fingers curling.

The silence inside the car stretched. There was only the hum of the car engine rumbling in the background. Honestly, she didn't want to stay with a stranger any longer than necessary. And with her home within sight, she could just get off and walk up there. Yet, she didn't felt quite ready to go back. She'd never wanted her mother's hug so bad, but at the same time she dreaded to see her again.

Her parents would surely ask about the sleepover, like they always had. Ib couldn't seem to remember how she had answered them all those times before. She still didn't understand, but she knew from now on things could never be the same again. Maybe she should have stayed. Maybe she should have heard him out. Maybe if she had, she would actually know what to make of things, and they could fix this somehow.

"Garry."

Her head immediately snapped up.

"That got your attention, huh."

She glanced to her left and met Scarlet's narrowed eyes. The older girl didn't seem angry, just… tired.

"So, as I was saying. Remember. You are not at fault."

Ib felt the rims of her eyes prickle; but she hardened her jaw and bit the tears back, refusing to let her visage crack. If the lady was trying to make her feel better, it wasn't working. She lowered her gaze away, attempting to block Scarlet out again. The lady had been like a broken record the entire ride, constantly telling her that it wasn't her fault. That—

"He did a horrible thing."

Just because she didn't answer didn't mean she wasn't listening. Realize that already! Ib wanted an explanation. Not redundant consolation, which she found hard to accept even. If there was something she remembered clearly about last night, it was that she had disobeyed Garry every step of the way. He told her to go home, but she stayed. He told her to go to sleep without him, but she just had to go out and bother him… He had even told her to go back inside and lock the door, but she'd clung to him…

And all that wasn't her fault?

"… Garry," she felt a nip in her chest at the mention of his name, "what he did was disgusting and despicable." Scarlet placed a hand onto her shoulder, alarming her every nerve. If she had felt the jolt Ib's body had involuntarily given, the lady didn't show it. Red eyes narrowed at her as the older girl repeated, "Get it? This whole mess is his responsibility."

Ib broke the eye-contact and stared back down at her skirt, but not before shirking the hand squeezing her shoulder away.

Scarlet withdrew her hand and ran it through her dyed locks. The car gave a muffled groan as the gears were shifted. "All right. Do you want me to take you up there?"

Silence.

"No," was the simple, belated answer. The little girl undid her seatbelt and, despite her lethargic looks, was outside in a matter of seconds, bowing at Scarlet before walking away.

Scarlet sat watching the girl's retreating back, mind in a mess of her own. She couldn't believe Garry had the balls… No, scratch that. He didn't, but he did it anyway. And Leonard Garland. The benefactor Garry so seldom mentioned was actually Leonard-freaking-Garland. She should have suspected something when that guy lived so conveniently close for booty calls. She slumped against the steering wheel, taking care not to put pressure on the horn.

"Garry, Garry, Garry," she exhaled. Her finger reached for the windshield and tapped over the little girl, now a good distance away. "This is the last time I'm helping you."

* * *

"P-pardon, sir?"

Garry could practically see the gleeful interest welling up in the man's eyes as they watched him pale.

"Ib Evelyn Lowell," Mr. Garland calmly said, crossing his legs. "The kid that my lovely niece took off with. Tell me about her."

Garry's heart made an awful squeeze and broke into a rampage against his ribs. His shoulders tensed, hands knitted together to grip down on the shaking that was soon to come. It felt as if he had been caught red-handed. He reminded himself to breathe—and to maintain eye contact. There should be no surprise his benefactor was aware of Ib and him. He must not act guilty. The man didn't— _shouldn't_ know about "it." He had to stay calm. Mr. Garland was probably just voicing his concerning about him hanging around a high-profile little girl.

His body rigidly relaxed.

"I—" he fought to keep his voice from shaking, "thought you were okay with it. I mean, I've been with her all this time."

Garry could have punched himself in the face when he heard the spite in his own words.

"Defensive, are we?" Mr. Garland chuckled in the same blithe manner he always carried, making impossible to gauge his actual mood. "I'll give you points for using my words against me, though. But don't worry, I'm all for it. After all, she's the best connection you have outside of my jurisdiction. She'll definitely be useful later on."

 _Keep her out of your filthy politics._ Garry tried to keep the look of distaste from showing. The idea of using Ib never even crossed his mind, yet here this man was casually dirtying the nature of their relationship. And the worst part was that he could only sit and take it as if it was true.

"However, something caught my attention the other day, and I find the need to reconfirm."

 _Shit_ , _it's about the time I stood him up, isn't it._ "Can I ask what it was—"

"Nope." The man raised an eyebrow as if to make a point. "So, go on, tell me about your little friend."

Garry sucked in a breath. What he wouldn't do to rip out his tell-tale heart right now, pummel it into a million pieces and flush it down the toilet.

He began to tell Mr. Garland about how he met Ib. The uneventful and, to put it bluntly, fake story, which Ib and he had perfected during the first few months after their reunion, that in no explicable way explained their bond. It was just a more believable explanation than the version he had given to Ib's parents.

"You two seem rather close for the meeting you claim to have, hmm."

He was afraid this would come up. Just how much did the man have them investigated?

"… Yes, it's strange, I agree." He gave a breathless laugh. "I guess we just clicked."

Mr. Garland bored straight at him in a pensive manner, head tilted against his hand. "Garret, do you remember your interview?"

Garry blinked at the sudden turn of the conversation. Nonetheless, he thought back to the interview around a year ago, when he had still been struggling to finance himself and naively applied for a sponsorship.

He'd sit amongst other nervous interviewees, waiting for his turn. The dangling prize was a private sponsorship for fashion major students whose dreams are too often laughed at and unsupported by cynical parents. Of course people from his department swarmed the opportunity like flies did honey. However, the first selection hadn't been lenient, wiping out what he suspected was eighty percent of the applicants. There weren't that many people left for the interview.

When his name was called, he stood up and quietly passed by a girl that was leaving. Inside, he shook hands with the two people present. Ms. Voltfied's albino looks caught his eyes at first, but then he saw Mr. Garland – chairman and CEO, as the nameplate indicated. Young for such a position, but Garry had read that the company was inherited and was able to keep his surprise at bay. What got him, however, was how… down-to-earth… the man looked. He even swiftly entertained the idea that it was an employee acting as a double for the real chairman.

The interview took place. It wasn't his first time, so he knew roughly what he could be asked. And for the most part, everything was predictable. It had gone so smoothly that Garry didn't remember what exactly he was asked. But then Mr. Garland asked him something that had stood out.

"What are your thoughts on children?" Mr. Garland's voice snapped Garry back to the present. "Do you remember what you told me?"

"… Yes, sir." His face darkened as he realized what the man was getting at.

"What was it now?"

Garry hesitated. "I told you I hated them… sir… I still do. They're weak and pathetic." Just like his cousin who writhed from his kick when it probably didn't even hurt that much. Just like he had been under the tyrant that was his father. "I meant every word."

Some people would have lied. Some people would have picked better wordings to tone it down. But the out of context question had led him to believe the sponsorship required him to work with children. Garry was afraid that if he didn't made it clear enough, he might get chosen for something he hadn't signed up for.

"Now, now," Mr. Garland looked amused, sitting up straight. "I never thought you were lying. I'm very aware there always are exceptions. Though it's still most curious that you and she are so close."

"Ib's just… different," he said, reiterating what he had been telling himself the past two years. "Sir, this," he tapped his temple, "it's not a preference. It's a disorder and for whatever reason, she's… she doesn't pass the criteria. I'm just strangely okay with her being there. Any distaste I have just doesn't apply no matter which angle I look."

He waited for Mr. Garland to say something in return, but the man kept quiet. But it wasn't the contemplative, sympathetic kind of quiet. It was the scrutinizing, confrontational and judging kind that clawed at his certainty.

"You know, Garry, most would accept that as an explanation. But I'll tell you now, it isn't working on me. You're still not telling me why—" he paused, the hint of a smile never leaving his face, "why she's so important. We all know I have my sources, and we all know you two are more close-knitted than your little story suggests. So, won't you tell me?"

Garry fought the grimace that was threatening to form. He had hoped his longwinded speech would throw the man off, but it seemed he had been too hopeful. He resolved to stay quiet and hold out for as long as he could. Mr. Garland already knew too much, and Garry feared the idea of giving away any more information that would let the man have even more of a hold on him.

Time seemed to stand in place as he impatiently counted every second in his head. The pressure from his benefactor's calm gaze was driving him crazy— until help came in the form of a ringtone. A simple default ringtone found in all smartphones.

"Or maybe you can't," Mr. Garland muttered offhandedly before taking out his phone to answer the call. "What's up, Rin?"

Garry relaxed his body and seized the chance to look elsewhere for the first time since he took his seat, feeling like he had just been released from a snake's hypnotism. He easily tuned out the man's conversation with his secretary, not wanting to accidentally hear anything he wasn't supposed to… and also not wanting to listen to the man's voice altogether.

"'Kay, I'll be right there." Mr. Garland promptly stood up just as he ended the call.

Garry immediately followed suit and shot up to his feet, secretly bubbling with joy and relief that his benefactor was leaving sooner that he'd thought. The man looked up at Garry as he fixed his tie. "Something came up, so I'll leave you with this," he picked up his jacket and started to walk pass Garry when he tapped on his arm, "set your priorities straight, yeah?"

.

"No need to see me out."

With that, his benefactor disappeared into the corridor, and it wasn't much later that he heard the door opened and closed.

Garry dropped back down to the armchair and let go of a breath he'd been holding. He wiped his face, mind replaying the conversation in lightning speed. So it really was about the time he canceled their meeting. It wasn't even anything much, but he guessed Mr. Garland wanted to address the problem when it was only a seedling. The man always made sure to do that, as far as Garry cared to observe. What the man didn't know was that he was already two years too late.

This seedling had long plunged its roots into hard concrete.


	27. Intermission - Glass of Time

**Sand…**

_If only you'd ceased flowing…  
_ Had you just poured faster…

_My dearest wouldn't be gone…  
_ My precious would never have hurt…

__？？？_ by the _ ___？？？__ , I _ ___？？？__ my finger over her beautiful _ ___？？？__ …_

_With her_ ___？？？__ , she…_

The book was abruptly closed and taken from her loose grip. She raised her head, looking up at the figure standing behind her. Her face didn't betray it, but her eyes openly conveyed her displeasure. It was one thing to invade her personal space, standing so closely and reading over her shoulder, but snatching away her read was just plain rude.

At her incriminating stare, he merely replied, "Don't read this kind of stuff until you're older," with an embarrassed connotation to his tone. It was difficult to make out his expression with the dim lighting, but it seemed to be somewhere between a frown and a blush.

She watched him put the book away on the highest shelf that even he could barely reach while vehemently muttering something – not very nice things, she gathered – about Guertena. As if to mock him, the book slipped from his fingers and fell back down, bouncing off his head before landing with a thud near her feet.

She bent down to help him pick it up, but he immediately snatched the book away before she could.

She held his gaze. His mouth opened to say something, but didn't, and he went back to putting the book away. She didn't understand why he needed to try so hard. Not like she could, or would, get the book if he left it any lower. She wasn't so keen on reading something he clearly wasn't going to help her read.

It was amusing, however, watching him pick a fight with the shelf that refused to receive the book.

In a corner of her young mind, she found herself hung up on his words. When would 'older' be? He was treating her like a child.

" _You're really mature, aren't you?"_

He was treating her like a child despite saying things like that.

Just how much longer would she then be considered his equal?

_I_ ___？？？__ to us; every time we _ ___？？？_ _ _ ___？？？__ I feel _ __？？？_ _

___？？？__ myself to his flaming _ ___？？？__ , I stroke his _ __？？？_ _

_Lips_ ___？？？__ in a _ ___？？？__ smile, he…_

**Why do you cling to the hand you ran from?**

"Ib!" A voice shattered her trancelike daze as a weight rested on her shoulder. She met her friend's soft blue eyes. "Don't look so wistful. Haven't you been looking forward to this?" The blonde leaned into the crook of her neck and gave her waist a firm hug from behind.

"Yeah…"

"Come on, I'm really glad you're going with me."

.

"So, is that all?"

She glanced around her room, drinking in the familiar angles that would soon become far away. They were all so dear that she found herself hesitating. But… she didn't want to take any of them along.

The girl looked down at the simple object in her hands. "This is everything." Her fingers curled around the cold, delicate glass; she held it tight.

The door to her room closed behind her. Together with her best friend, she went down the stairs and out to the front porch. Her parents were waiting for them. Their entire luggage had been mounted, and she only needed to join them on the car. She slowed, letting the blonde pass her by to turn around and look at the mansion that had cradled her childhood. It wasn't goodbye forever, so why was she so restless? Her eyes locked onto the slanted window wall where her room was.

She heard her parents calling. The engine started to rumble.

" _I love you, Ib… I wish we could stay like this…"_

The things she was used to having, things she'd taken for granted… gone. She wanted them back.

**True… Take any hand you want.**

The blonde held out a waiting hand, impatiently urging her lest they'd be late.

Sand was falling steadily between her fingers.

She gave a discreet smile and breezed past her friend. "Last person in gets to pull the suitcases," she said over her shoulder. The blonde responded in kind and they raced the short distance to the car.

Doors slammed shut, and the car sped off. Looking out the window, she watched the mansion slowly sink behind the curtain of trees. Her fingers fiddled with the treasured keepsake.

The road ahead was straight.

* * *

_Hourglass, Hourglass lying horizontal_

_Why is it so easy to tip you over?_

_Why is it impossible to quench the flow of time?_

**Glass of Time**


	28. Juncture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She made her decision... and thus marked the juncture of their relationship.

She was pulling a Prussian blue turtleneck over her head when her parents returned. They weren't supposed to be back yet. The housekeeper had informed them that she was home—even though she had specifically asked the woman not to.

The little girl dismissed her displeasure, however, because she understood Mrs. Turner was just doing her job. Instead, she finished dressing herself and took a look in the mirror. She would've preferred something that didn't remind her so much of him, but that was only a distant concern.

As long as it wouldn't be seen…

She glanced at the empty laundry basket at the corner, gaze lingering, and pattered out of the room.

Down in the lounge, she lingered around but not after quietly greeting her parents. There was a sluggish quality to each of their movements that spoke volumes of their exhaustion, so she made sure to stay out of their way.

Ma was finishing up on arranging the coat rack when she met her gaze. The woman tilted her head in a smile, the gentle expression almost making Ib want to cry. She was far more emotional than she'd like to let up. The tingling sensation welling up from under her lids was an alarm, and she blinked to push the tears back. With all her efforts, she missed the chance to give any semblance of a response.

It was okay, Ib told herself. She seldom smiled back anyway, and her mother was used to it.

Alysha loosened a few top buttons of her dress, mentally shaking her head at her daughter's usual expressionless stare. Ib took so much after Nathan, and she didn't know whether to be happy or concerned. Stifling a sigh, she went into the kitchen to pour herself and Nathan a cup of tea. It was a little habit they shared after a night out, and judging from the way her husband was slouching on the armchair, he needed his fix of healing herbal tea.

Ib was now left alone with her father. He was massaging his shoulders while holding back a big yawn. His eyes were hooded and he looked like he could fall asleep just from blinking too slowly. Yet, those brown eyes soon regarded her with an alertness that she wished wasn't there. She wished he wasn't paying attention to her. She wished he'd leave her alone. It was selfish. Ma and Pa came back for her so early even though the party must have gone on way past midnight. And the drive wasn't short, either. She felt guilty for thinking such thoughts, but she couldn't help it.

Pa took off his dark blazer and left it on the arm of his seat. When he patted his thigh, she barely kept herself from shaking her head right away. Barely. She still shook her head a tad too quickly, and to cover it up, she went to sit on the couch opposite from him.

He chuckled, sitting back in the chair, but she didn't miss the hint of loneliness in his eyes.

"So Ib, how was last night?" His innocent question stomped down at the dread swirling within her.

It suddenly became hard to breathe.

"Did something happen that you came back so early?"

A chill stabbed straight through her heart, causing her whole body to tense up in spite of herself. It just wasn't possible that Pa would have any idea about last night, she knew that. His wording only hit a little too close to the nail's head. He was most likely just curious, seeing as she had always tried to stay with Garry for as long as possible. Noting his expectant look, however, she instinctively knew she only had a small window of time to give him an answer before that casual curiosity became full-blown suspicion.

She needed to reply. But…what should she say?

The fine wine generously offered by his business partner had not been kind. Nathan took a deep breath as he felt a yawn coming, a part of his mind wondering if coming home had been a good idea at all. It wasn't like he didn't understand his wife's wish that he spent as much time as he could with Ib. Really, he would like nothing more than to be there for his little girl every day if not for his busy schedule. He just didn't think being a wet blanket in his bed for the rest of the afternoon was very practical to the cause.

He set his eyes back onto his daughter, sitting over at the couch – her downcast gaze seemingly indifferent to his question. Ib was always awkward and reserved, just as he had been in his childhood, but since when had she passed that milestone? Why was she already distancing from her father?

It wasn't as if he hadn't already known the answer to that question. Ever since that boy showed up, things had begun to change—faster than they should. So much faster.

"Ib?" he nudged, still waiting for his answer. He caught a swift change in her expression and got the hazy sense that something was off. His little girl was upset. Her eyes were also red from what might have been lack of sleep. It should be a cause for alarm, but his fatigue-addled brain calmly attributed it to the fact that his sulking daughter just didn't get her fill of Garry-time – as his wife had so named it. The thought only further tickled his curiosity. He never thought the boy was capable of ushering Ib home so early.

Ib was still off in her own little world. Sometimes it was so difficult to get her to talk, he thought wryly. He was about to press his question when Alysha returned and handed him his cup of tea on a small plate. He promptly thanked her before taking a slow, savoring breath of the grassy aroma that put a smile on his lips.

"So what were you two talking about?" Alysha started after taking a sip of her tea, her tone chipper despite her feeling like an old oven nibbling on it last piece of half-burnt wood. It was her job to make sure the few bonding opportunities for the awkward pair of father and daughter didn't reduce to stale silence. Balancing her cup on the plate with one hand, she took a seat on the arm of Nathan's chair and gave his stiff shoulder several light squeezes.

"Well, I was just wondering why Ib was back this early, but—" Pa stifled another yawn, "it appears she's rather sullen because of it."

Ib inwardly cringed where she sat. She'd thought she was off the hook. She wasn't even done thanking Ma for her timely reappearance, yet… The little girl had always appreciated her mother's help with the abysmal communication between her father and her—just not this time.

"Aw, I'm sure Garry's just busy." Ma said to her before turning back to Pa. "You don't think we were imposing on him at a bad time, do you? It is exam season right now."

"Mm, is it? It's been too long since I got my master's."

"Look at you, talking like an old man."

"Am I not one?" Pa said with a lighthearted laugh.

Ib watched their conversation played out with a bubbling dissatisfaction. One part, she was comfortable that their attention wasn't on her; the other part, however, wanted their attention, wanted them to be concerned about her, because she deserved it. Obviously! After what had happened last night.

But her parents didn't know about last night, now…did they? She would have to tell them first.

"If you're old, what does that make me? A relic?"

"No! No, no. You," he gave her knee a gentle tap, "are radiant."

Ma giggled at his words, and Pa didn't hide his smug look. They were always more playful as they enjoyed their favorite tea.

They really didn't think anything of it—of how odd she was acting. She would have to tell them… But if she did, wouldn't they be mad at her?

"So how's Garry?" Ma looked to her. "You look like you haven't had a blink of sleep! Did he let you stay up late? Seriously, that boy yields too easily."

"It's been a while since we got a chance to meet him. He's okay, I hope?"

Ib wished she was in her room, curling up under the familiar scent of her blanket. But she came down to greet her parents for a reason, even if she still didn't quite know what that reason was. She dreaded their reaction, dreaded that they wouldn't love her anymore. Because she felt disgusting. She was disgusting— and dirty. And it was all her fault—

" _You are not at fault."_

She froze at the memory.

" _I know I'm nobody but trust me on this, 'kay? It's all on him."_

" _No one will blame you."_

.

Something sparked in her mind then. Understanding was clicking in.

" _He's in the wrong."_

The reason for those words…

" _What he did was disgusting and despicable."_

The purpose of telling her them over and over… It was not out of kindness or sympathy. It wasn't even empty consolation like she had thought.

" _He'll pay for what he did."_

.

Ib finally understood what Scarlet was trying to do. And the lady had succeeded.

She looked up at her parents. Dry mouth swallowing, she sucked in a breath.

"Last night, Garry…"

* * *

Monday came with the usual chilliness of late winter, waking him from a sleep he hadn't realized he'd drifted into. _Nightingale_ was playing in his ears. A calm, beautiful serenade was stuck on repeat, wasted just because he didn't want to hear the silence. His right ear was sore from having slept against the earbud. He was in the last position he remembered he'd been in, curled up under his thick blanket. The light in the room was on.

Although severely sleep-deprived, his biological clock had pushed through and forced him to get out of bed. He did his usual morning routine to get ready for the day with the song still playing in the background. He went into his wardrobe and threw on whatever articles he happened to grab, not bothering to match them like he normally could not go without. Some jeans, a shirt and—well, that was it.

Garry had to leave the house. He didn't want to hear the silence because he would hear…things…and he was already sick of the song. Any song really.

He staggered down several flights of stairs instead of taking an elevator. His body was heavy from hunger, but he ignored it. He walked outside and put on a black denim jacket.

The usual scenery greeted him, neatly trimmed grass and meticulously pruned trees. He headed for downtown, eager to leave the quiet neighborhood behind. There were more people around as he kept on walking, but not enough to be crowded. It was loud enough, though. His feet brought him along the usual path to his university. The usual mob of people that passed him by, minding their own businesses; the usual stores that opened at the same usual hours… Everything was as usual.

Something had drastically changed, but all these people keep going about none the wiser. The world moved on without a care. And he walked it as if he belonged.

It felt so wrong, but he didn't know how to fix it.

The campus was nigh empty. He didn't have any classes for the day – or for the next few weeks, for that mattered – but he would get some paperwork done and hang around the campus until it was time for an appointment he had. He wanted to go inside the library at first, but ended up avoiding it like the plague. A horde of maundering kids was touring the place due to some promotion event with the local elementary schools.

Garry grumbled and left for the Admission and Records building. As he walked down a long hallway, he checked his watch to make sure the offices were open. There was another set of footsteps echoing aside from his. It was in a hurry, as though trying to catch up to him.

"Hey, morning." Lucy tapped his arm as she skidded to a stop by his side.

"Oh, morning."

"Youch!" she made a face, eyeing him up and down. "Did you put on one of those cheap zombie makeups they have in Halloween. Also, yellow is _not_ your color."

He gave a disinterested hum. It seem he'd put on a yellow shirt – a gift from his aunt if he remembered it right.

The girl got in front of him and started to tug at his clothes like an overzealous fitting room attendance. "Hmm, well. The jacket is making up for it, thank god, but you are still a walking nightmare and a menace to everything holy about A&F. Is something the matter?" She paused to look up at him. "With your head, particularly."

Garry narrowed his eyes. "Our people barely even noticed I've been wearing this jacket for a whole week. As long as I'm not also sporting red pants and an iridescent afro," he swiveled around her to resume his trek, "I'm sure I pass society's scrutiny with flying colors."

"No, no. You don't get to take that tone!" She chased after him, but struggling to keep up. "For one, as one of _our people,"_ she used the air quote with a roll of her eyes, "you can't seriously be okay with what the general society dictates. And second, I left you alone because it was finals and Ms. Lynch might as well have squashed the whole class under her super-sized ego. But we're so done and over with her now, and damn it you even got full As this semester."

"Now, wait just a minute," he stopped and turned to her. "How do _you_ know my grades? That is pri—"

"The point is, Garry," she jabbed a finger at his chest, purposely making it hurt, "you don't get to give people the slightest reason to laugh at what we do. Those holier-than-thou art majors already think us the butt of the school's joke! But most importantly, you don't get to give me the cold shoulder!"

Garry opened his mouth, ready to bristle, but her hard gaze made him think better of it. She was angry. Angry and upset. He'd been avoiding her ever since she spotted him smoking. It was almost laughable that he'd actually thought that kind of tactic was going to work on her, and now he got what was coming for him. She wasn't the type to keep herself bottled up like—

…

"So. Do you have anything to say to me?" She crossed her arms.

Looking into her brown eyes that were slightly glazed, he felt his anger being doused by a torrent of guilt. She didn't deserve it, he knew. She just cared, and was trying to help. It was just that…Lucy knew how to get onto his case, and she was so good at it he was afraid she could see through everything he was trying to hide.

Still, it wasn't fair to vent his frustration on her like this.

"… Sorry," he lowered his gaze and hung his head. "Just…don't ask me."

She exhaled, unfolding her arms. "Why, Garry? I'm worried about you."

"Because I'll tell you."

It was the first time he'd ever seen her speechless.

"You don't want to know. And I don't want you to, either."

For a while, they stared at each other. He could tell she was considering his words, could see the cogwheels in her brain working to analyze and understand whatever expression that was on his face. "Please." His whisper broke the silence, and he turned to continue towards his destination.

Without a word, she followed him. This time, however, he shortened his stride so that she could walk with him. They arrived at the office where Lucy patiently waited until he finished getting his transcripts. It was only after they walked out the door that she started, "So where are we going?"

"Sorry, not 'we,' hon," he smiled apologetically, "I have an appointment in the President's office. Maybe later." There was still a good four hours until the meeting, but he wanted that time alone.

"Garbear, I'm glad for you and all, but please leave some scholarships for us too."

He chuckled. "It's not like that. Apparently some super genius bioengineer wants to see me."

"Does the guy want a fancy new suit for some groundbreaking announcement?" At this, he couldn't help but laugh. "Right? What would a scientist want with you _?_ "

"I said the same thing, but Mr. Schulz said the guy was persistent so I couldn't refuse."

"Who now?"

Garry frowned. "Alec Schulz. The President."

"Oh… Oh yeah! I think I get his newsletters in my spam."

.

They parted ways in front of the building where he was supposed to have the appointment. Watching Lucy leave, he felt…lost. The time spent with her was short, but for a moment, it was as if everything was back to normal. It felt good, but at the same time so irritating. He shouldn't be living a life like nothing had happened. Anytime now, it would be his time to pay.

When Lucy disappeared into another building, Garry made a sharp spin and headed for the library. The phone in his pocket started ringing, so he took it out without much of a thought. The ID onscreen made him freeze in his track. 'Ib's dad' was displayed below the animated green phone.

His heart slowed before bursting into full panic.

The phone kept on ringing relentlessly in the same tune that he had installed a few weeks ago. It felt like forever before the call finally went to voicemail, and the line went dead right away. He was about to let go of the breath he'd been holding when his phone started ringing again, as if saying there was not a chance in hell the caller was going to leave the matter for a later time.

He felt weak in the knees, and his hand was shaking as he tried to press answer.

"H-hello?" his voice was a broken whisper.

There was only silence on the other side, and every second that he waited to hear a gruff voice laden with anger squeezed his windpipe a little tighter.

And then came a greeting that made his eyes go wide.

.

.

.

"Ib?"


	29. Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She made the decision...and he complied.

The leather squeaked under her weight as she squirmed in place, waiting for the answer to her question. She pressed the phone close to her ear and listened to the sound of his breathing. It was one of those rare moments where she wasn't treated like a child. He was just as catatonic as she, his voice an octave lower and his tone no-nonsense.

She sat back on the couch, eyes scanning the expensive interior of wood and brick crowded by shelves of hard-cover binders. The large window behind the heavy desk showed a cloudy morning, sunrays barely hitting the tall buildings outside. Her free hand brushed along the wall next to her; her fingers traced over the decorative indents. Despite its warm brown, the wood was cold against her skin.

On the other end, he said her name but struggled to continue. Was this how people feel when they talked to her?

_**Impatience.** _

She turned to glance out the window behind her, parting the blinds to see her father conversing with other adults – coworkers, who dressed in immaculate business attires and whose face was the definition of distress. Ib figured she was the reason why they were talking outside his office.

Good.

She let go of the blinds and resumed her previous posture against the couch. On the phone, Garry sounded panicked at her lack of response, asking her if she was still there and listening. She was, just not in the way he would want her to. The way he used 'aye' that wasn't at all like him and how he kept telling her that it wasn't a good idea, she didn't want to hear any of it. She could tell he was trying to wriggle out of the conversation. He did it all too blatantly when disconcerted. If her voice was going to give him the reassurance to hang up, she wouldn't offer even a cough.

A rejection was looming on the horizon.

He went silent for a moment. When he started again, she quickly tuned out his words, her heartbeats quickening.

_**Need to…fix…** _

From his voice, she could imagine him running hands through his hair, yanking it even. "Garry," she interrupted his incoherent rambling.

She remembered yesterday. Time had seemed to slow to a standstill as she held both of her parents' gazes. They'd both smiled despite the grogginess in their expression. So patient. So gentle. She loved them.

She also loved him.

And the smile had spread so naturally across her lips as she'd woven a tale.

"I already told you," she began after a deep breath to steel her resolve. "You were studying, and I fell asleep waiting for you." It was a story in which she found Garry drooling on his table in the morning, and he fell off his chair when she tried to wake him. There was this scene in her head, so ideal, where they exchanged carefree chatters as he whipped up breakfast, until his guest so rudely interrupted them. A simple tale where she was happy, where he smiled kindly and patted her head, and everything was…normal.

"This is not something we can just lie about," his tone was filled with objection. "Things don't just work like that—"

"I'm not lying."

"Nothing happened."

If that night was going to sabotage what they had… If his embrace was going to be the reason why she could never feel his warmth again, and her tears why he wouldn't see her. Then none of it had happened. The bed had been too big without him that night, but his scent kept her nightmares at bay. The morning had been scary when she couldn't find him in the living room, but his drooling face when she found him in the study had made her smile.

Her hand slid under the collar of her thick wool jacket, her fingers shaking as they repeated their new habit of tracing the collarbone.

Like this fading mark on her skin, that night was going to disappear. Like the way they'd convinced people they were just a strange pair that bonded over macarons, this was just another story for them to perfect. Another truth they'd keep. Another tie that bound. And as long as they never mentioned it, no one would know; and neither of them would have to hurt.

"Don't make me a liar."

There was only silence on the other side.

"So can I?"

She could feel it. The rejection was ready at the tip of his tongue.

"Please, Garry?"

.

A sigh was vivid in her ear. "All right. You can come…tomorrow. Any time you like."

"Thank you." She strangely felt neither the joy nor anticipation that should've followed this pattern of conversation between them. "… See you tomorrow."

"See you."

Ib waited for him to hang up, listening for that beep that would cut the sound of his breathing short and end the call. But it never came. As the seconds ticked by it dawned on her he was doing just the same thing. It was Garry whom she had learnt the gesture from.

A soft chuckle echoed on the other end; he sounded almost wry.

"Okay, I'll hang up now, Ib. …Bye." And the line went dead.

She lowered the phone from her ear to stare at it, her mind blank. The discreetly parted blinds revealed her Pa with a stern expression, and it didn't seem like he would be coming in anytime soon. Turning back in front, she started to dangle her legs as her mind replayed the phone call. Garry didn't reject her. Somehow that was such a feat. Garry didn't want her to come, but he didn't reject her. Her black boots stilled.

He didn't reject her.

He couldn't reject her anymore.

Sliding down from the couch, the little girl went to put her father's phone on his organized desk. The faintest smile was curving her lips.

* * *

Tomorrow was said to be a beautiful day, according to the weather forecast. Of course, it was but a probability.

His heavy footsteps travelled up the stairwell, echoing between marble walls and a tall, intricate ceiling. The air conditioning was faintly cold on his skin when he reached the top and entered through the doorway. It was quiet. The campus was already quiet because of the break, but this building was especially so. He could've been convinced he was alone.

Walking past the lit but empty rooms, Garry headed for the paneled double door at the end of the hallway. The President was always looking to increase the quality of other departments aside from arts and crafts. It had been emphasized to him how important it was to please the school's guest. But with his head filled to the brim with the phone call from Ib, Garry couldn't have cared any less when he knocked on the door. The past four hours were mere minutes as he kept beating himself up over the promise he'd made. A bad idea, he still thought of it, but at the same time they did need to talk. He'd expected weeks, if not months, before she could bear to mention his name again. And that was if her parents hadn't already called the cops on his sorry ass by then.

Yet, not only had she proposed they act as if nothing had happened, she was even walking back into the place that should have scarred her for life.

Ib was always doing things he would never expect. It was what separated her from the rest. It was the reason why he'd fallen in love.

He remembered small hands. They had clung onto his shirt for dear life. And he had been too weak to break free.

His face darkened at the memory. It was also the cause of this whole mess in the first place.

And then there was this…

_**Relief…** _

The door opened and he was introduced to the guest. A thin, bespectacled man with a head of mussed black hair sat cross-legged at the sofa. He looked to be thirty-something, quite young for the things that had been advertised about him. As the scientist stood up to shake his hand over the coffee table, Garry analyzed what careless articles of clothing were hanging from the man's lanky figure. Tasteless and dull. Maybe he really was being summoned for a pre-conference makeover – although he wasn't in the position to criticize others right now, after that scolding by Lucy.

A halfhearted grip. "Nicholas. Pleasure to meet you, la'." He saw no such pleasure in the smile that was offered.

The President left them with a few private instructions whispered to Garry.

"Care for one?" Nicholas offered him a crumpled pack of cigarettes the moment the door closed.

"… Thank you, but I don't smoke," he replied despite the distant flare of want. It was the brand he liked to smoke, and his lungs would love a deep burn right now. But it was time he tried to quit again, since Ib would still be around—

_**How conceited.** _

Whoever said she was going to be around? But a wayward part of him rejoiced at the possibility. Ib herself had suggested they bury this skeleton. She hadn't told her parents. She must want to be with him still, so why was he even hesitating? His lovely Ib was protecting him just as she had always been. If anything, he should be giggling with glee like a madman watching the tides turn to his advantage.

"Huh… I was under the impression that you did." The offhanded comment pulled at Garry's attention, and he met Nicholas's gaze for the first time. The pair of square glasses obscured dark eyes that did not hide the bored indifference of a man who'd learnt all there was to know. Perhaps the man knew him from someone else. While thinking that Garry still didn't see a plausible reason for Nicholas to want to see him. And looking at the idle attitude of this alleged genius, Garry wasn't sure if the man had any purpose at all.

Nicholas withdrew the packet, and took out one cigarette for himself. "Then, do you mind if I do?" he asked, but was already taking out an acrylic lighter; the cancer stick between his teeth. His right hand made clumsy work of the device, creating several clicks with no success. "'Shite… Forgot to refill this thing again." The man grated, crushing the filter stub between his teeth.

Without much of a thought, Garry held out his silver lighter. "You can use mine."

There was a pause as the older man stared at his hand. "Didn't you say you don't smoke?" Those dark eyes were lazy, but scrutinizing.

Garry smiled to hide his nervousness. "I quit last year, but still carry this around as a habit."

The man made a throaty noise that left the mood rather ambiguous and bent forward, bringing his cig near the offered lighter. An expectant look was directed up at Garry, so he complied and lit it for the man.

As the white smoke made a languid escape from the tip of the burning tobacco, he found himself giving it a longing look. Maybe if he asked for one— Garry mentally shook himself and shoved his lighter back inside his pocket. No. He was seeing Ib tomorrow, and he'd be damned if she shows the slightest interest in smoking like she did his piercing.

"You're left-handed," another random remark from Nicholas, who smiled when their eyes met. The man made a show of switching his lighter onto his left hand and _click,_ a small flame flickered into life.

Garry narrowed his eyes, his annoyance seeping out. That lighter was anything but empty, and if he thought about it, people didn't refill those cheap things in the first place. He was not in the mood for mind games. "Nicholas, I'm sorry, but what is this meeting about?"

Nicholas appeared unfazed as he took a long drag. "That smug bastard told me to check you out," he paused to ash his cigarette, "you know, Leonard."

Garry felt a nervous churn in the pit of his stomach at the mention of his benefactor's name. The same apprehension that hadn't quite wane from yesterday was back with everything it had, like dying fire being fed oil. Suddenly, this insignificant appointment he'd had this past week had turned into something of grave relation to him. He didn't know how much Mr. Garland was onto, or what the man was planning, but he knew yesterday's conversation was far from finished. The uncertainty only made the dread plaguing him worsen.

"You should've heard him mention me quite a few times." Nicholas made a gesture with the hand that was holding the cig. "I was his advisor for grad school."

"… I'm sorry. Mr. Garland never talked about that." Garry answered honestly in his distress.

There was something like a pause as the older man stared back at him.

"Oh…" Nicholas leant forward with a serious look on his face. He looked riled up. "Then, you should've heard a lot about me from Scarlet. That kid's probably already bored you with the constant bragging of her dad."

He gave an apologetic smile. "She doesn't talk much about her family—" His voice trailing off, Garry replayed the words in his mind. "Wait, what!?"

"Yes, I'm too young to be her father, yada yada yada, save it." Nicholas scowled at nothing in particular, sitting back in his seat, and returned to the low tension state from before. It didn't look like he was open for conversation so Garry kept his mouth shut. The silence stretched into some sort of a mix between awkward and comical as the man drew impatient breaths after breaths through his cigarette.

"I tell you, la'. An ungrateful bunch, the lot of them."

* * *

A heavy feeling coiled around his chest as he lay on his bed, anxious about what was to come. With an arm draped over his forehead, he stared up at the ceiling above, trying to take an interest in the many shapes on its surface. The morning had come quicker than he would have liked it to, and he didn't want to leave the bed. It was a form of escapism, he supposed. By staying idle, his legs tangled in the mess of a comforter, it felt as though he could freeze time at the moment he woke up. The curtains were drawn, keeping his room in minimal lighting, so he could ignore the rising sun. And if he didn't walk out into the living room and turn the hourglass, the sand would remain stagnated, wouldn't it?

" _You said Mr. Garland asked you to check me out. Why?" he'd asked Nicholas._

" _Hmm, does he ever tell you why he wants you to do something?"_

"… _No?"_

" _So what makes you think he tells me?"_

He was worried. Mr. Garland sent Nicholas for a reason. He feared it had to do with Ib. That devil had set his gaze on innocent little Ib because of Garry, and he was in no position to stop it. All these problems, why couldn't they take their damn turn for once?

Garry sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. The hand that wasn't busy kneading his forehead traced the fabric of his bed sheet. Slowly, carefully. The tips of his fingers found what he was looking for. A blot of dry blood that did not show on the black linen. He lightly scratched at the hardened material without bothering to look at it, having fixated on it enough when he found it last night. As soon as the scratched on his ribs healed, this would be the only thing left of that night. The one evidence to his sin of indulging himself at his beloved girl's expense. And so easily, it, too, would be gone with some detergent and half an hour in the washer.

Nothing happened? It wasn't that simple. Maybe she could pretend he'd never embraced her, but Garry couldn't. He regretted hurting her…but he didn't regret touching her. He'd tasted the forbidden fruit, and it was far sweeter, far more intoxicating than he could ever prepare himself for. Though this guilt had yet to disappear, he was already wanting more of her. The moment she'd called his name in the phone and given him hope, it'd marked the ebbing of his conscience, giving way for a deep dark desire to bare its fangs. But this disgusting, lusting beast wasn't what she wanted, was it?

Ib wanted to glue back their broken friendship, no matter how sloppy a work it would be; even if the jagged pieces would never fit the same way again. She had no idea how cruel she was being with that naivety. To the both of them. Those jutting sharp edges were going to cut. He would hurt her with his love, and she would in return hurt him with hers.

He'd rather she screamed at him, hit him. She could've plucked his rose bare, rip its stem to shreds and left him to rot in that accursed gallery and it would've still been kinder.

But hey, he hadn't exactly been kind to her either.

His nails scraped with more force on the fabric beneath his palm. Trying to leave her, holding their friendship hostage, scaring her, hurting her, scarring her. He'd indulged himself, so wasn't it time he humored her childish ideals? The selfish piece of trash that he was, for the one girl he loved, he should be able to at least do that much. At least. He could at least try.

Garry opened his eyes and glanced to the large window. The sunlight was glowing behind the heavy drapery. He swiftly wondered how much time he had wasted lying here, before getting up. While stifling a sigh, he pushed the comforter and blanket to one corner and ripped the linen from his bed. He made a note to himself to clean the mattress and brought the balled up sheet to the laundry room.

After stuffing the bed sheet into the washer and set the machine going, he exited into the bathroom and stood himself in front of the mirror. He ran a hand over the stubble on his jaw, the other opening the medicine cabinet to get his razor.

When he was done cleaning himself up, Garry left the bathroom with a bandage on his left cheek. A quick look at the clock told him that it was well past eleven o'clock, and he found it rather surprising Ib hadn't come ringing his doorbell already. She had sounded so determined and willful on the phone that he was convinced she would come as early as her parents would let her. But he guessed nothing was predictable anymore.

He figured he could do some vacuuming, which he'd neglected to do since last week.

By twelve, he had finished with the apartment and seated himself on the couch after a change of clothes. Staring at the black TV screen in front of him, he counted the seconds it took for the hourglass to finish its cycle. Two hundred and ninety-eight. Five minutes, with a margin of error. He flipped the ornament and had it start all over. Once, twice, thrice… By the sixth time, Garry got bored and tipped the thing over. It was close to twelve forty and she still hadn't come. A long-forgotten memory of being stood up during his puberty years surfaced in his mind.

Maybe telling her she could come anytime wasn't the wisest thing. But he'd felt like he had no right to dictate when she could go to a traumatic place. He wanted to give her any bits of choice she didn't get to have that night.

He reminded himself that this was different from the times they used to hang out, and he doubted she was looking forward to it. There would be no going back from here. This was going to be that turning point, that change he'd craved and feared.

Getting up from the couch, he cracked his joints and went to fix himself a quick lunch.

At two, he was yawning from a full stomach, but couldn't quite fall asleep on his bed. Maybe Ib had changed her mind and wasn't going to come. Although, he didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed if that was the case.

He woke with a start around a quarter after three and sprang up straight, worried that he might have missed her. But without a way to make sure, he continued to wait.

At four, he decided to redress his bed. He was halfway done with it when the doorbell rung its shrill tone.

The dramatically slow build-up to the moment he'd mustered the courage to open the door revealed a delivery from his aunt. What kind of cliché anticlimax was this? He grudgingly signed the form, watched the woman disappear around the corner before crouching down to pick up the box.

"Garry." The hesitant call of his name made his head snap up to the left. And there she stood, red eyes calm and small face half-hidden behind a muffler she was tugging at. Ib kept her distance and didn't get any closer.

Hiding a wry look, he stood up holding the big box that was more bulky than heavy. Well, wasn't this just perfect? Both of his hands were occupied, so it could actually look natural to not hold out his hand for her. Not that she would take it anyway.

He gave her a small smile that he hoped would make her more comfortable, and gestured inside with his chin.

"Come, Ib."


	30. Ruth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She insisted...and he made his resolve.

Ib was cruel.

"Am I scary, Ib?" he had asked, receiving no answer in return, only a furtive glance, and then he'd been left to clean the myriad of white shards on the floor.

If you're scared then maybe you shouldn't be here—was something he'd stopped himself from saying.

She sat next to him on the couch, no further than an arm's length away, sipping at her hot cocoa. Not a single word said. Not a single glance exchanged. The low murmur of the heater seeped through the air – a much welcomed sound in the pin-drop silence. And while she sat faking disinterest, his gaze kept finding its way back to her.

Her long lashes framed dispassionate eyes, the curves almost touching upon her cheekbones. She sat with an elegance a girl so young should never have, somehow vulnerable, somehow frail, yet barbed at the same time. That soft hair had been splayed on his bed sheet, disheveled and matted with sweat. And that milky skin had flushed under his caress, so very warm. Just the other night she had been a ravishing mess underneath him. Just the other night she had been his. So how come? So effortlessly, she looked untainted by his touch – once again an existence so far out of his reach he dared not cross this meager distance between them.

His finger twitched infinitesimally as he continued his voyeuristic observation. His voice failed him, and she neither encouraged nor discouraged him. He wished she would look at him, thirsted to know what kind of eyes she would look at him with. He swallowed dry, his parched throat protesting. His glass was on the coffee table, plain water. In a nervous motion, he reached for it. And she flinched.

He fought a grimace, letting his bangs shield his expression from her eyes and keeping himself from turning to her. If he tried to say anything it would only frighten her further.

Garry hadn't expected happily ever after when Ib had asked to come over, but this was painful. She was terrified of him. He could sense the alertness radiating from her, every one of her muscles ready to defend herself against him.

He knew it was well-deserved. He deserved every bit of her fear and dislike. He would disappear from her sight to make her feel safer if she so command, but that just wasn't what she damn wanted. She wanted him close—just not too close. A shaky ' _No!'_ when he had attempted to leave had made him stay; although, a part of him now toyed with the idea of defying her wish in order to hear her voice again.

He grabbed his glass and drained the content.

Ib started fingering the black mug on her lap. The cocoa was already gone, but she kept the mug; and he hadn't tried to take it from her. Truth be told, he had been far too happy that she was okay with using his mug. At the very least he wasn't completely revolting to her. And Ib had a habit. Ah, that innocent gesture where she licked the rim of her mug to clean up any residue milk. He hadn't missed the short moment when her tongue poked out between soft lips, and the sight had sent an inappropriate fire along his veins.

He wished he hadn't drunk all of his water.

And she was sly.

Two hours of silence, one would expect it to go by excruciatingly slow. Yet, the clock hit six o'clock in a merciless haste, unsympathetic towards Garry's predicament. Winter evenings came early, and the sky outside the window brewed a brooding blue, the sun long removed from its maw. The oncoming darkness nudged at him to end this meeting.

"Should…" he croaked after much thumb-twiddling, which startled her. Of course… "Should you be getting back? Yuri is picking you up right?" It was the responsible thing to do, and his liking was unimportant.

The silence stretched—until her eyes fluttered up to him, for but a moment. They returned to staring at her lap all too soon and he could only hang his head in a sigh.

"No."

His eyes widened.

"I'm staying over."

"I already told Ma and Pa you agreed," she said quickly before he could voice the apt objection. "They said I can stay."

"Please, Garry."

That tone was unfair. Calling his name was unfair. He knitted his hands together to reign himself in. Aware it would only prove disastrous if this situation went on, he made an effort to gather his scattered wits and opened his mouth to deliver the rejection he knew she would not accept without a fight.

The words he'd prepare were lost somewhere in space and time when he registered that contact on his arm. Hot shivers ran along his skin and down his spine. He glanced down to small fingers gingerly clutching the fabric of his sweater. His heartbeat picked up a nervous pace as he hesitated to look up. He just knew the moment he did it would be the end. So he waited—waited for her to give up and let go.

Who was he kidding? He had been craving this for as long as they had been sitting. Her eyes were on him, and he could feel their gaze hot on his cheek. Was it filled with fear? Disgust? Hate? Or would it be cold, her emotion hidden from him? He needed to know. The pathetic, incorrigible trash that he was jumped at the chance.

With a tilt of his head, he ventured to meet her eyes. And he unconsciously held his breath. Her eyes were so red, so true, glazed over by the slightest hint of tears. The vulnerability she was projecting aroused his protective instinct—and something else.

His finger twitched again as he ached to hold her, or to inch even a little bit closer to her. He had to curse his libido for having the gall to infect his thoughts at such a time; but if Garry may give an excuse, never before had anyone bear such a staggering effect on him. Carnal urges and guilt made for a vicious poison that left him with smoldering self-loath at his own lack of control.

He was unable to break free from her gaze. Those red eyes chipped away at his willpower with the ease of a fine blade, asking—begging him for only one thing: not to send her back. She had made up her mind to do this, for whatever reason that she had deemed logical. Maybe she wasn't being logical. Maybe _he_ should be logical and not let her have her way, but— Yes, there was always a 'but.' But he couldn't bring himself to say no to her. But her parents were not expecting her to come home, setting aside how that had come to be the case in the first place. But most of all, _he_ wasn't logical either, and he wanted her to stay just as bad as she did. Maybe even more than she did.

Her hand tightened around the mug on her lap and her gaze didn't move from his, full of conviction that should not match that apprehensive look on her face. "Garry, I want to stay. Please." Her voice was a whisper.

The place where she was touching burnt a sweet sensation, and he was glad he'd worn a sweater.

_**Ah, please don't look at me like that.** _

Ib shouldn't have to beg him like this. Who was he to reject her touch? Who was he to deny her wish? He had no right, absolutely none.

"Okay."

So sly.

She rewarded him with the most beautiful smile, making him feel like everything was okay when they actually weren't. Her hand left his arm as she retreated to her own space, once again not looking at him. This left him frowning. He couldn't figure her out. What was Ib trying to do? Wasn't she afraid of what could happen? Her coming here was already questionable enough, but he could have passed it up as bravado. Staying over like this, however, he didn't know what she was trying to prove.

Was the girl thinking that he would not dare touch her because of guilt? That was awfully naïve. Although Garry would love to think of himself in such a commendable light, he wasn't so sure he would be able to keep his paws off her. The chains had already broken once…

"I'll go wash my mug," she said after a while. Her lithe body slid down from the couch with the speed of an agile cat, and just like that she disappeared through the kitchen doorway.

When the sound of running water could be heard, his entire frame relaxed, the joints in his neck grating in gratitude as he cracked them. 'My mug' was it? Why did he like the sound of that?

_**It's coming back…the beast…** _

After they had each showered, dinner was uneventful. She had changed into a pair of myrtle green pajamas she'd brought. In hindsight, maybe he should have gotten the suspicion that something was off when seeing a duffle bag on her back.

His aunt's shipment had been well-timed. He had been running very low on food and the past few days hadn't been very good opportunities to remedy that. Ib wasn't a picky child when it didn't involve her favorite omelet, so he was able to whip up some stir-fry dishes that she enjoyed enough. They had semi-awkward conversations, during which he did her the favor of not meeting her eyes. Ib seemed to be a lot more comfortable because of that.

Secretly, though, he was grinning inside as her curious gaze roamed his face. No matter what kind of emotion she carried towards him, he was contented that her attention was on him for the time being.

As he brushed his teeth, he thought he could call it a day like this.

"Let's sleep together, Garry," she said after spitting, causing him to choke on his own rinsing water.

_**Just what is she thinking?** _

With a pillow tucked under one arm, Garry stood in the doorway of his bedroom, on his way to head for the couch. The only thing stopping him was a shy hand gripping at his shirt from behind.

"Let go, Ib. This is nonnegotiable," he drawled with firm words that could have fooled even himself. As if he wasn't dying to climb onto the bed with her and see how far he could take it. He'd already had her. She was his, but there was suddenly a dire need for him to make sure of that – something he was trying very hard to forget. Yet with every call of his name, every touch of her fingers it reminded him, and he was set on fire anew.

"Please, Garry." And there went his resolution.

It had dawned on him that she was trying to have that night again in her ideal little way—to redo what had gone wrong and attain some sort of peace of mind for herself. She was being stubborn and desperate. Why, he could not understand. Did she not realize she wielded so much power over him? He couldn't even muster the strength to walk away from this feeble hold she had on his shirt. This feeble hold that was shaking ever so slightly.

"Garry."

_**Why are you doing this to me?** _

"Ib," he muttered, not turning to her. "You know what's gonna happen right?"

Without waiting to hear her answer, he spun around and scooped her up against him with one strong arm. She gave a surprised, or maybe terrified, yelp into the crook of his neck as slender arms and legs flailed haphazardly around him. It was a matter of mere strides before he reached the bed, onto which he couldn't have pinned her fast enough. Ib was trapped between his arms once more, and the presence of ample light allowed him to observe her like he hadn't been able to the night before.

The smooth mass of her hair pooled all around her, almost melting into the black fabric underneath. Eyes, round and filled with fright, stared up at him with a plea he refused to hear. She parted her lips in order to say something, but never did. Her wee hands were propped against his chest, trying to prevent him from coming any closer, but she might as well be pulling him in. His heart was so loud, and he didn't doubt she could feel it. Garry wanted nothing but to capture her mouth and kiss her senseless. But he managed to clamp down on himself and settled with letting his eyes feast on her trembling loveliness instead.

"I'm scary, aren't I Ib?" He asserted with what shallow breaths he was taking in, and she shook her head in spite of herself. Garry dug his finger into the thick blanket. His words were ground wheat through clenched teeth. "Don't lie. You're afraid, I understand. I deserve it. But Ib, it hurts so much when you do this." He brought a hand up to her cheek, eliciting a small whimper. He didn't hide his pained grimace as he wiped the watery corner of her eye. "You stick to me and then recoil as soon as I so much as lift a finger. It really hurts."

When her gaze hesitantly met his, he tried to put on a smile. "Let's do us both a favor and put a little space between us, okay?"

He pushed himself up away from her warmth and immediately fled for the door, fearing that some bipolar switch inside him might flip; and he'd turn around and devour her all over again.

"No!" His hand was caught, and his head whipped back to see her fingers lacing with his. Several emotions struck him then: fear, relief, shock, and…delight.

They were prowling dangerously close to the tire tracks, and she did not seem to care. How was this any different compared to the other night? His control was borderline short-circuit, and he was one irrational thought away from pouncing this defenseless rabbit before him.

"Ib," he began, but was cut short when she slowly pulled on his arm.

Like an enchanted fool, he let himself be led back to her. His bony knuckles were up against her chest now, cradled between quivering hands. The rhythm inside her ribcage was vivid on his skin. She hung her head low, and he could feel her hasty breaths wafting down on his palm. Growing hard, he found himself matching his breathing with hers.

"I'm not scared," she said without preamble. He blinked. And then she lifted her head, just enough to meet his bewildered eyes. "I promise I'm not scared s-s-so please don't leave. Stay with me, Garry," she pleaded even as her entire body trembled.

"I love you."

_**Ah…** _

So very sly.

He lay next to her in the darkness of his bedroom, hand still in the blessed imprisonment of her embrace.

I'm not scared, were the faint words she chanted like a mantra under her breath. He was unsure which one of them she was trying to convince.

As her breathing grew even and her murmur was lost to the silence of the night, his eyes made their observation under the trespassing moonlight. He watched her every features, taking them in anew. He was afraid to go to sleep, because tomorrow he might wake up to the fact that this had all been a very elaborate, very wishful dream. But then…no dream could have felt this good, and been this beautiful.

She loved him? He didn't care what kind of love she meant, someone tell him how did he deserve that? Even if she meant none of her words, why was this girl going so far for him?

He felt his eyes welling up with hot tears. They blurred his vision of her, and he let them flow freely across the bridge of his nose, down onto the pillow he rested on. There was no one to judge him in this darkness, only himself and a beautiful sleeping angel.

If his presence gave her comfort, then he'd stay forever by her side.

.

.

.

"I love you, too, Ib."

.

.

.

And he let the blistering handcuffs click shut around their wrists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Rant: Um...I'm sorry I went on a gaming binge... Happy New Year! This chapter has been a raging tiger trapped inside this little box I call my imagination. I could not find a good way to present it and kept postponing on writing.
> 
> As always, I thank everyone who's reading this story and especially those who leave a few lines of their thoughts. Please tell me how I can improve my writing, and don't hesitate to approach me through PM. And if there's a hilarious mistake somewhere, please don't stay silent about it!
> 
> Have a nice day~


	31. Monologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They tried not to think about it...maybe it wouldn't come.

_The little girl ignored the words of the woman following her and walked on._

_She refused to accept it, because they had a bond._

_But when she stood in front of his door and the hideous silence continued to stretch, she became slower and slower. So slow that reality caught up to her with a vicious tackle. Her vision blurred, she tried the bell again, as though pressing it enough times would somehow make him appear. And he would welcome her with open arms like he always did. But it was impossible. "Please…" Her voice cracked. She pressed her forehead to the cold door as hot drops spilled._

_The girl was in pain. When he'd left, the man had torn out a part of her and took it with him._

_Because the misshapen pair of handcuffs never had a key…_

* * *

The metal railing was cold when she leant against it and gathered her legs near her chest. The pleated skirt and thick knee-high socks provided by the school's winter uniform had never been enough to keep her warm. She shrank into her sweater and pulled her muffler up past her nose to warm the freezing tip, sniffling from a sneeze that had fallen short.

Winter break had ended and the weather was supposed to be good enough for schools to start again.

From under the shelter of moldy red shingles, she watched the rain water down the garden. The plip and plop of raindrops into small puddles that had formed somewhere out of sight made for a pleasant acoustic on top of the monotonous drizzling. She eyed the wet ground before her and thought longingly about the time of late spring, coming onto summer, when she would be able to stretch her legs on the grassy green and enjoy the warm sunlight filtering through thick foliage.

She also thought about how she was still spending recess alone. Things hardly changed, yet it felt different.

The girl let out a slow breath through her lips for some fleeting warmth inside her muffler and closed her eyes. The quietude relaxed her. She rested her face into the fold of her arms.

A distant round of laughter was carried by the wind to her. She had never liked her peers' rowdiness, but from afar, it was a white noise hum that she appreciated. She could be at ease alone, knowing that she was not truly so.

The languid mood embraced her and colored her mind in darkness.

" _Ib…"_ She cringed, swallowing with difficulty as her heart clambered in its pace. A chilling breeze stroked her into huddling up tighter. She felt exposed. Her clothes were doing a bad job at shielding her. She hugged her legs closer, making sure they were closed.

"Ib!"

The voice that broke the silence startled her. It came from above. She looked up to see green eyes and a somewhat defeated smile.

The boy had himself propped up behind the balusters, arms folded on the top railing to support his chin. "You're out here again, huh?"

"Hi." Ib greeted with little enthusiasm, but she doubted Ray noticed.

Ray climbed the railing and dropped down next to her. He took his seat by her side, commenting on how cold it was, before flashing a bright smile that was somehow jarring for her current thoughts. She appreciated him coming, as she would have been too reserved to approach him on her own, but right now talking with him was… _off_.

"Man, you were so quick to disappear. I was gonna come talk to you but when I turned around you were—" he made an exploding gesture, "poof."

"…Sorry."

"Naw, you already showed me this hideout so finding you was easy-peasy."

She watched him grin and felt it tug at the corners of her lips. It was one of the things she liked about Ray. His smile was infectious, and he always seemed to radiate with a positivity and confidence that she didn't have.

Her gaze drifted, any mirth that might have been inspired in her vanishing without a trace.

The past few weeks had been…off…but Ib couldn't pinpoint what she wanted to complain about. She came to Garry's apartment more times than she had the past few months. His rejections were no longer a concern, and she got to spend time with him to her heart's content. They did the things they had always done.

The macarons outings and afternoon walks…

Simple lunches and hot cocoas…

The occasional sleepovers….

He did everything she wanted, though with scant hesitation. Reading her to sleep, long hugs whenever she was comfortable. She was being spoiled rotten.

But then…there was the silence.

She didn't use to mind when Garry was silent, but now it was the scariest thing he could do. Even as she curled up next to his sleeping form and tug him near, he still didn't feel as close as she'd like him to.

There was a line that hadn't been there before. Though he kept smiling, his face so dear, assuring her nothing was wrong, she found herself wondering if there was something he wasn't telling her. Being with Garry was becoming something short of an addiction— No, it had always been such. She just never realized until it was threatened to be taken away.

"And we had to end the ski trip early." Ray finished his story of colorful gesticulation. It was nice how he could go on and on so naturally. "Anyways, I talked too much about myself. Hey, how's it going with that guy we talked about?"

Ib stared at the look of interest on the boy's face.

"…We made up. Thanks to you."

She wasn't lying.

Ray didn't hide his smug grin as he boasted about how 'awesome' he was, and that she could talk to him anytime she needed help. Ib nodded along, grateful for his company. She noticed that his eyes were on the green grass, and his legs were dangling at a fast pace. She could already hear the sloshing of his flats, and see the telltale mud-framed prints that would be trailing behind him later on.

Ib felt her smile return.

* * *

Sunday had arrived at the speed of dripping molasses, and Ib couldn't be any more impatient as she watched the numbers light up one after the other, until the metal doors parted and let her in. She rode the elevator to the second floor and got out into the quiet hallway. It was early in the morning, but her cold bed hadn't been any comfort when she awoke with a sweaty pillow. Her parents were sound asleep, tired from another late business dinner; so after telling Mrs. Turner about where she was heading, she'd bolted out before the middle-age woman could have had the chance to stop her.

Ib knew she was going to get scolded for this, but for the moment she didn't care. Garry was all that was on her mind. She missed him terribly, and their daily phone calls had been of little satisfaction.

As she walked down the long corridor, she could hear chatters echoing off the walls. Her strides slowed as her ears strained. There was laughter in their whispered tones that made it hard to understand what was being said. By the time she got into a better hearing range, the conversation had already ceased.

"Why, hello," an older girl emerged around the corner as Ib neared it, with a small purse tuck under her arm. There was a familiar smell wafting somewhere.

Not one to speak to strangers, Ib returned the greeting with a small bow and carried on.

Stopping in front of his door, she rang the bell.

"Did you— Ib?" he appeared concerned on top of his surprised expression, bending down to her level. "What's wrong? Why are you here so early?"

Garry brushed her cheek, his touch feathery light, and she leaned into his large palm until he withdrew it to run his fingers through her bangs. He was so gentle and kind. She still had trouble understanding how he could have been so cruel that night.

He must've sensed that something was wrong from her silence, because he asked, almost cautiously, "Do your parents know you're here?"

Ib pressed her lips into a thin line, and Garry stifled a sigh. He got back up to his towering height and had a hand behind her back. "Let's just get inside first, hon. You must be cold."

She complied, but clung to him as she did so. She could feel him stiffen in reaction to the contact, but paid it no mind and immersed herself in his scent.

Oh, it was the smell of lavender.

* * *

His breath was stuck in his windpipe as he watched the haunting red of her eyes through hooded lids. With both hands she cupped his chin. She was exploring; her fingers curious and smelling of candy, tracing his mouth with tantalizing caresses. For one moment, he was afraid to move, to even let the air escape his lungs lest he frighten her back into her shell. But the next, he wanted to encourage her—let her know she could do no wrong.

He took her wrist in a tender grip and pressed her palm more readily to his lips, a gratifying breath drawn between small fingers.

Closer, he wanted to be.

Running his hand up the length of her slender leg, past her soft curve and dipped down to the small of her back, he secretly wished the skimpy layer of clothes wasn't there. Everything was slow as he gauged her reaction. When her eyes spoke of wonderment, it fanned the flame gnawing away at his restraints. He pulled her hip to his, until her arms struggled to move, and their breaths mingled as one.

Even closer.

He invaded the last of the distance between them and nuzzled her frail column, feeling her voice vibrate against his nose. He kissed her jaw, her cheek, whispered love into her ear, and felt her skin. And finally, he tasted her lips. Briefly, but painfully sweet.

"Garry," she called his name when they parted, and he listened. Anything for her.

Her eyes were impassive, neither inviting nor rejecting. He felt like leaning in for another.

"You promised you wouldn't do this anymore," she muttered.

.

Garry opened his eyes to the bright interior of the living room, recounting to himself that he'd fallen asleep sitting at the couch. Last night hadn't given him much rest. He lowered his knuckles from his face and sat up straight to exercise his stiff shoulders. The rattling of his joints was much welcomed.

He brought his hand across his chest to rest over where his heart resided and was pulsing with anxiety. Sunday mornings were so peaceful that it curried unease, and the quietness only made the noise all the more apparent.

He got up for a drink of water before returning to his room, where it was still dark thanks to the heavy curtain. Making sure to avoid the pile of old bed sheet dumped on the floor, he came up to the child snoozing away on his pillow. Ib hadn't gotten much sleep either, it seemed. Though he was happy to have her over and trust him enough to fall into sound slumber, her timing left much to be desired.

Their relationship would soon crumble one day; he could feel it sneaking up to them. Ib, too, was growing more restless and demanding. It hurt too much to think about the end, but he was becoming an expert at distracting himself.

He set his glass down on the nightstand and joined her on the bed, careful not to wake her with the mattress shifting. As though sensing his presence, she stirred and snuggled up to him. The way she did so, he thought, was absolutely adorable. He brushed a few strands of hair away from her face and played with the shell of her ear. He swallowed and bit his bottom lip. Thinking about blue dolls for a bit, he then bent down to kiss her forehead.

_**I promised, didn't I?** _

He would have to tell her parents soon. But for the time being, Garry would savor each moment they were allowed together.


	32. Expedient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He struggled to regain the lost status quo...she just wasn't sure she wanted it back.

Garry ended the call and, careful not to make noise, put his phone down onto the nightstand with a dispirited sigh, his tongue smacking an irritated click. He drew his leg up from under the thick blanket to rest his arm on and ran a hand through his mussed head.

The bright ray of sunlight slicing through the crack between the curtains told him it was already late into the day.

Next to him, Ib was sound asleep, her breaths fanning against his hand in a warm, even rhythm. She had a hand tucked underneath her pillow, her hair soft and splaying down her cheek, her neck. He could see a little bit of crust in the corners of her eyes and felt a smile tugging at his face. As he slipped into a daze watching her, Garry wanted to give her a kiss. Just a chaste, innocuous peck on those defenseless lips. Just for a little bit.

But that was crossing the line, so he withdrew the hand that was creeping towards her cheek.

.

"Here you go, hon," he placed a cup of warm milk down in front of her. "You don't have to finish that if you don't want to."

Ib shook her head and continued to nibble on the sandwich with little zeal. Garry stifled a groan. As mature as she acted, his little girl was still just that: little. Refusing to meet his eyes and the silent treatment – classic sulking.

He went to finish cleaning the stove and threw away the last of the eggshells before seating himself on the other side of the dining table. Garry was about to start his late breakfast when he realized something.

"You know, Ib, I really doubt your parents will care whether you've finished your food or not."

The girl glanced up at him for a moment, and then her gaze returned to the table. She remained silent, but her dispassionate chewing had halted. Looking at her trying to keep a blank face, Garry could hear the little cogwheels in her head scrambling to creak out another stall tactic and hid a smirk as he picked up his sandwich to take a large bite out of it.

The Lowell couple weren't happy to learn that their preteen daughter had been short of running away from home at the break of dawn – no thanks to the exaggerated testimony of their housekeeper. Ib was now grounded and banned from Garry for an indefinite amount of time. _Depends on how well she behaves,_ Alysha'd said.

Swallowing, Garry put the sandwich down and resisted the urge to sigh loudly. It sounded severe, but he was sure the parent would let up soon. Ib didn't though, and was mad at him for not doing anything about it. She seemed to think he was some sort of expert smooth talker, when in fact _she_ was the con artist where her parents were involved.

He didn't blame her for being on edge though. These few years he'd been with her, Garry had never seen Ib being disciplined. She probably had never even gotten into trouble before, spoiled little thing. By her age, Garry had already been grounded and spanked enough to file for child abuse.

Ib kept her eyes down as she ate. Rather than being concerned about her lack of appetite, Garry found the dark rings above her cheekbones more deserving of his attention. She'd told him she was having nightmares again, though she didn't tell him what they were about. He didn't pry. He figured it was the gallery stuff resurfacing.

_**Or maybe…** _

No…she wouldn't have come running to him.

_**Right…** _

"I'm not enjoying this anymore than you do, Ib." Garry propped his chin up in his palm, leaning forward on the table and trying to catch her gaze.

She wasn't the only one disgruntled by this. During the past month, being able to see her was his only saving grace. The time he spent with her blurred the guilt gnawing at his heart. Every glimpse of her smile put his ill soul at ease, and every touch she allowed him was a momentary reprieve from his crime. On the days they couldn't meet, he'd munch on the few minutes of phone calls from her to stave off the longing and anxiety.

Garry was scared.

A part of him was convinced something in Ib would change if he wasn't constantly reinforcing his existence in her life. She might find solace with that blond brat and decide that he was no longer worth the heartache. Or she might start resenting him for not being there to sooth her evil dreams. Or she might realize she didn't even need him to cope with the haunting. And what if she breaks down and tells her parents what he'd done.

Call him a coward, but he was so scared. He wasn't ready.

"Ib, honey," he tried again, leaning in closer. She was still ignoring him, staring at something off to her left, but he knew she was listening. The girl hadn't taken another bite even though she was at the runny yolk that she loved. "Your Ma sounded serious, you know. I just don't know when she's going to let you off. It might be a while before you can see me again, hmm?" Garry thought a little teasing to lighten up the mood couldn't hurt. "Do you really want to leave here hating me?"

"I don't hate you." Her red gaze darted up at him, looking almost desperate to clarify. The conviction in her voice stunned him.

As if startled by her own outburst, Ib immediately fluttered her eyes downward and bit into her sandwich with a little more force than needed.

"H-hey, the yolk!" Garry got to his feet and reached over to stop a string of yellow from making its descend onto her white and expensive turtleneck.

Ib blinked a few times, perplexed. "I'm sorry," she said, her mouth full, and titled the sandwich horizontal so that he could take his hand back.

"No, it's okay." He licked his palm and grinned. "I used to always make a mess eating these, too."

As Garry sat back down, Ib dropped her food, got to her feet and pattered towards the cupboard. Before he could wonder what she was doing, the girl returned to his side with a dampened paper towel and presented it to him.

"Why, thank you." He was wiping his hand when he noticed her lower lip. "You got some—" Garry reached up, but stopped when she flinched.

He wasn't going to deny the pinch he felt inside his chest that moment. It was nothing new though. He kept forgetting that things between them had changed, and she kept making that guilty face even though he was at fault.

"Sorry. May I?" Garry maintained a gentle smile so as not to pressure her and waited for a nod before rubbing the smudge of yolk from her lip. Ib stood very still, and he could tell she was holding her breath.

_**God, Ib…** _

He was becoming self-conscious. The flesh beneath his thumb was soft, and he didn't want to move from it. His suddenly dry mouth swallowed. Garry yanked his line of sight up and away from those inviting lips. His eyes met hers – she'd been staring; she was watching him with eyes he couldn't read.

_**You're doing everything wrong…** _

What was she thinking? What did this blank expression mean? She was a mystery that kept on drawing him in. Was he hated or was he loved? His careless teasing had been taken the wrong way, and he couldn't feel more flattered by her response. But how much of those words could he trust? How much of them had she meant as his confusion mirrored on her face?

The ringing of the doorbell shattered the silence like walls of glass.

"All clean!" Garry retracted his hand in one swift motion and tilted his head in a smile. Pushing his chair back, he got to his feet. "That must be your parents."

Ib opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself. He patted her head. "I'm sure they're not too mad. Go finish your sandwich. I'll try and abate them, 'kay?"

The little girl gave a slight nod and went back to her seat.

And as he left in haste for the door trying not to think about how she'd cringed under his hand, Garry sucked on the crumbs of dry yolk on his thumb.

* * *

"So you're still here…"

Garry's brows drew together at the disdain in her tone as the silver-haired girl brushed past him and into his apartment as though it was her own.

"What do you want?" he asked with little patience. It had been a week since he'd last had any contact with Ib, and Garry felt mentally and physically drained by the daily life he was forced to continue. No afternoon meeting, no weekend visit, no phone call before bed. Whatever Ib was doing at home, she was doing it wrong. And he couldn't even be there to advise her otherwise. His tolerance was hitting rock bottom and he had none to spare for snide remarks, especially coming from someone who could jab where it hurt.

He hadn't expected to see Scarlet ever again. She'd made it very clear how disgusted she was, and he hadn't resented her for it until…

Garry closed the door and hurried after the girl, who kept on heading inside, his question unanswered. "Hey, don't just go in as you please."

"I want to talk." She gave him a fleeting glance over her shoulder before attempting to sit down on the armchair. However, the seat was crowded by a toppled column of books, as was the coffee table and the complimentary couch, so she settled for the rug.

"Really, you came _here_ to talk while expecting me to be behind bars," he scoffed and returned to his pile of unfinished assignments scattered on the couch.

"I knew you'd be here. Uncle wouldn't have left it alone if you were arrested." Her words got him looking up from his work. There was something lethargic in her expression. "It's only a little unbelievable to actually see you. The little girl protected you in the end."

Garry tightened his jaw and tried to distract a rising anger by concentrating on the sketches. "You told him? Is that why you came? If he sent you then go home."

"No." She gave a curt shake of her head, face like she'd just bitten into lime.

Scarlet didn't say anything more, and Garry resumed working, satisfied knowing his benefactor was still in the dark.

"Garry."

He'd heard the girl, but decided to ignore it. She wasn't going to tell Mr. Garland, and that was as far as his interest for her went. Now he'd love for her to leave, preferably on her own.

"I liked you, Garry. I really did." He paused in his strokes, glancing up again. She was staring straight at him, her teeth gnawing on her bottom lip, her eyes forlorn. "Did you like me?"

The lost look on her face almost made him feel guilty. Scarlet was a beautiful and confident girl, and he'd enjoyed her company, both as a friend and in bed. What he liked the most was… Garry worked his jaw and averted his gaze. "Yeah, I liked you." But it stopped at that. If only there was more, this entire mess could have been avoided.

He heard her emit a sigh. "It's these eyes, isn't it? Gosh, you sick bastard…"

Garry pressed his mouth into a thin line to keep himself from lashing out at her. He made a show of working on his project, though Garry was only retracing what was already on the paper, the strokes he made threatening to tear through the fraying surface.

"You're not even going to try and deny it?"

The walls of his nostrils flared.

"Hey, I'm talking to y—" He threw his pencil at her. It barely missed her face, smacking loudly against the side of the armchair she was leaning against.

"You have no right to judge me, hypocrite," he growled low and grim. "You were just as sick."

"You don't know what you're talking about." Scarlet tried to gather herself even as her flight response clattered wildly against the bars of her ribcage. She had had ample time to reconsider the events and concluded that there was no way Garry knew anything. The boy played a good bluff, but she wasn't going to be fooled this time around.

"Oh, please, sweetheart. It's a little too late to play dumb now. You were obedient as a puppy at the mere mention of your father."

She snapped up to her feet, her cheeks flushed with anger and her hands in fists. "Let me make this very clear. Why I helped the little girl had nothing to do with what you claim to know about my family."

Garry felt his frown deepen. Now the girl was just lying through her teeth. If he hadn't played dirty that morning, she would have left Ib to freeze. "All right." He shoved his work aside and got to his full height, towering over her.

For a brief moment, she shrank away, afraid, making him wonder what the point of this argument was. But then she held her defiant gaze up at him, and he wanted to make her miserable.

"Guess what, Scarl. I met your father the other day." The hundred and eighty degree change in her expression told him he'd hit the nail on the head. If Garry had any humor left in him, he would have burst out laughing from the satisfaction of watching her squirm. It flavored his poignant tongue and made his voice sickeningly sweet even for his own ears. "My, it was such a huge coincidence how much we had in common. And then it all started to make sense." Every drunken words she'd blubbered on his doorstep had clicked together like pieces of a puzzle.

"Th-that's not…" She took a step back, but he seized her by the arm and pulled her up to him, dipping his head low until their noses were inches apart.

"Come on, just admit it. I'm as much of a replacement to you as you are to me. You came because, just like me, you still don't have what you want."

"You forced yourself on a child," she hissed. "We're nothing alike."

So she liked to be on the moral high ground. The muscles on his face hardened before he willed them into a smile. "And? What did you use on daddy, hmm? K? Roofy? You had everything planned out, didn't you?"

Her skin lost its colors all over again. She tried to flee, but he kept his hold on her tight. "Let. Go." She mumbled, her voice already cracking, her hands flailing to push him away.

Garry brought his free hand to her chin and lifted her face to him. The precious red of her eyes were glazed with unshed tears, so much like those that haunted his sleep. No matter how fearful, no matter how hate-filled, he loved them.

_**Ah, beautiful.** _

"If I'm scum then you're no better," he whispered and placed a kiss upon defenseless lips.

Just a chaste, innocuous peck.

* * *

A pile of books comprising of her Monday subjects, that was what Ib was resting her head on at the moment. With her ear pressed against the cover of a book she vaguely remembered was for Chemistry, she grimaced at the energetic thumping of her classmates' indoor version of tag, but was too lazy to remedy the problem. The rain was going on strong outside the closed windows, ensuring that there was no hope of them having what was left of the recess outside.

Ib was tired from lack of sleep, and the fact that she hadn't been able to catch a single whiff of Garry made the entire situation all the more unbearable. Pa had been furious with Ib, but only after they'd left Garry's place, most likely knowing that Garry would have tried to mitigate his wrath. The man was normally so agreeable and mild in temper that it'd silenced Ib from attempting even a squeak of excuse in the face of the uncharacteristic discipline.

She had no idea what to do. Ma was the one to get mad and Ib knew how to plead to the woman to get her way. Pa, on the other hand, was uncharted territory.

Mary was being very mean in her sleep, whispering things she was afraid to hear the most. While Ib understood her friend was long gone and could never come back again, in the throes of her nightmares, logic was as abundant as sunlight during full eclipses.

"Hey Ib!" Ray's voice called her as a hand landed on her desk.

"Yes, Ray?" she glanced up and took in his smiling face that was smeared with sweat and something she hoped wasn't the cream from the celebratory chocolate cakes in the cafeteria.

"Here's yours," he presented a small paper dish with aforementioned cake before her.

"I said I didn't want any." Ib lifted her head and flopped it back down on the books, facing the other way. She wanted to sleep, and sugar would make that goal even further away than it already was.

"But it's soo good, Ib," he defended from out of her sight, and he wasn't lying. The cake offered by the school on the founder's birthday was of great quality, but the magic had already faded by her third year studying here. She could live without it this year.

The boy walked around the desk and sat on the empty seat next to her. "What got you so grumpy?"

Was her face showing it? "I'm not." She kept her voice neutral.

"Oh, come on. I might just be able to help."

Ib closed her eyes, the burn of tears spreading behind her lids. "I can't meet Garry."

"What? Is he avoiding you again? Seriously—"

"My parents won't let me. I'm grounded."

"Oh, not such a goody-two shoes now, are ya?" Her eyes snapped open and she sat up straight. Lorrance, who stood in front of her desk stuffing himself with a slice of chocolate cake, smiled his ugly smirk at her. "Peh, a teeny tiny punishment and already whining about it."

"Go away, dude. This is a private conversation." Ray shot to is feet and tried to take the cake from the other boy. "And that's Ib's."

"Bla, bla, she doesn't want it," Lorrance shouted through a mouthful of cake and ran back to his circle.

"Really, why am I friends with him?" The blond grumbled with crossed arms. He turned back to her. "Sorry Ib, you were saying?"

Ib only shook her head and dropped her head back down on the pile of books. 'A teeny tiny punishment'? Was she being whiny, complaining about not being able to see Garry after only one week? Pa said the same thing. That she shouldn't be bothering Garry so much. That she was a big girl now and should learn not to depend on Garry. But wasn't she entitled to depend on him? She heard shuffling next to her, indicating that Ray had settled back down by her side.

"Um, y'know, I think your parents had a good reason to ground you. So just wait a little bit more. When they're not mad anymore, you'll be able to see Garry."

She turned her head to look at Ray, the boy smiling nervously as he tried to be helpful. "I guess I deserved it." She lowered her gaze, deep in thoughts. Ma and Pa must have been worried to learn she'd left the house without their knowledge.

"I wouldn't say that… Say, can't you just go see the guy for fifteen minutes after school?"

Ib shook her head. "Mr. Ivankov picks me up."

"Oh…"

Ray fell silent for the rest of the recess. She could tell the boy was looking at her the whole time she had her eyes closed. He must be feeling bad for not being able to help her. Ib liked that he didn't easily abandon her like others who attempted to befriend her. She wanted to tell him not to worry about it, but felt little motivation to do so as the sleep laid its grip on her.

The little girl woke up a short few minutes later to the bell signaling the start of the next class. Next to her, Ray was getting to his feet to return to his seat. He gave her a soft nudge to gain her attention.

"Leave it to me, 'kay?" He had on one of those confident smirk that she'd learned preceded some sort of plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Rant: I'm back you great readers, you!
> 
> The Ib fandom is running dry isn't it...? Is anyone else saddened by this? I have two options of either quickly end this fic or say beep the world and take my sweet sweet time. The odds are falling in favor of the cheat third option of not finishing it at all.
> 
> But hey, I don't have strong enough love for any other fandom to write for it. God dammit Ib, Garry...give me my soul back.
> 
> Thank yous to everyone who's reading this story, whether you're enjoying it or just skimming to see the ending of this angst and drama fest. For the latter, I'm sorry to inform you we're not done by a long shot.
> 
> *cues a drop in readers*
> 
> Review or PM and leave me a word of encouragement, or just to rub your/you're mistakes in my grammar nazi face. I'll see you next chapter.
> 
> Have a nice day~


	33. Longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He found his resolve...but she was just starting to discover hers.

The sky was still a murky grey from the day long rain, reflecting off the huge puddles that had formed on the school grounds. Leaves and twigs stripped from their branches lay strewn in muddy heaps as the wind attempted to scatter around some more. The janitors weren't going to be very happy.

From her daydreaming seat, she watched as the large bell atop the tower made its final reverberating round for the day, signaling the end of her class and prompting all students to quickly vacate their classrooms. Ib was in no such hurry. She hadn't a sliver of the will needed to wade through the sea of children draining out into the hallway, all too eager to move around after being confined to their seat for one period too long.

The young girl took her time clearing her desk, putting all of her pens and rulers into her blue pencil case, gathering her music sheets into one neat stack. After drawing had become something to be feared rather than a hobby, she had, with much influence from Garry, taken up music as a replacement. She liked learning the piano, which was why it was surprising that she retained none of the lecture today.

Alone in the empty classroom, Ib hugged her things to her chest and went out to the now slightly less busy hallway. She felt miserable that she didn't feel the same way as her fellow peers who couldn't wait to return home. Though she knew it was wrong, she felt resentment towards her parents. Just a little. Maybe a lot. She wanted Garry, and they were keeping her from him. She was powerless to sooth this displeasure that kept growing and growing, feeding such wayward thoughts in her head.

She took a deep breath to calm herself before she arrived at her homeroom. Ib hated herself for being so emotional.

"What took you so long?" Ray asked her as he dangled his legs sitting on top of a desk. He was the only one left in their classroom.

"You're here," she commented, intending it as a question, and headed for her own desk to put her things away.

"Yeah, waiting for you."

She looked up from her backpack. "…Why?"

"Because you're inviting me to your house," the boy grinned.

"I…am?" Ib tilted her head in confusion.

"Yes. Now, come on. Hurry up would ya?"

Ray pushed himself off the desk and came up to her. Before she could say anything more, he'd already finished packing up for her, took her backpack and ushered her out of the classroom.

.

"Don't jump around, please," she reminded Ray, holding him back before he could descend those last steps of the staircase with a leap into one of the huge puddles, and he pouted, giving her his words not to.

They treaded through the school ground, which now mimicked a shallow marshland. Upon reaching the gates, she easily spotted the black of her family car in the waiting area. Ib greeted the driver and introduced Ray, telling the large man about her(?) idea of inviting Ray over. Despite the hard lines of his features, accentuated by his military haircut, Mr. Ivankov was an amiable person, who quickly agreed to give her friend a ride home afterwards. They settled into their respective seats and the engine started with a smooth rumble.

"Hey, mister," from the backseat, Ray tugged at Mr. Ivankov's shirt as the man pulled off into the street. "Can I borrow your phone to call home?"

"Sure kiddo, in a sec okay?" The man said in his thick, accented voice and shot a glance into the rearview mirror. "Now buckle down so the nice officers leave us alone."

"Ro—ger that~"

When they reached a red light, the driver pulled out a phone from his blazer's pocket and held it over his shoulder. Ray thanked him before dialing in a number.

"Hey, so I'm hanging out with Ib at her place." His eyes narrowed. " _No,_ this is getting old, dad… Okay, I'll be home before six, promise… Cool! See ya!"

Ib sat in witness of the casual phone call in secret disbelief. That was the shortest request for permission she'd ever seen – if she could even call that asking for permission. She had always known that compared to other kids, she was awkward around her own parents, but was she really so far off?

The girl leant back and adjusted her seatbelt so that it didn't strangle her as much. Ray was now talking to her driver about the day. The boy could talk about anything, even things Ib thought was pointless to mention. However, she wasn't sure if she appreciated him trying to include her in the conversation.

She had never taken to conversing with Mr. Ivankov. For one thing, the man needed to have his eyes and mind on the road. She was afraid to distract him, and not to mention it discomfited her greatly to talk to a person's back.

In any case, an adult wouldn't care to hear her broken mumbling.

Only Garry.

She wanted to see him.

Ib stared out the car window that colored the world grey. A few stray raindrops were still falling.

* * *

The new air freshener dangling beneath the rearview mirror had an overpowering scent that pervaded the stagnant air inside the car, stoking her headache of car sickness. Ib pulled her muffler up to her nose to stifle the smell as she scoped out the situation. The driver was humming to himself, and Ray was yawning, taking in one large gulp of air. No one seemed to be bothered like she was. She then turned to eye the window button to her right, but tore her gaze from it soon after.

It was a short ride anyway, and she didn't want to be difficult.

Ib held in a whimper and busied herself with her thoughts. She still couldn't quite believe this was happening. Ray was…ridiculous. And even more ridiculous was that she was going along with his plan.

Yesterday, after having become fast friends with Mr. Ivankov, Ray had gone on into her home and charmed both of her parents into lifting her punishment. Glad that she'd finally gotten herself a friend her age, they'd agreed to let her visit Ray's place the next day. However, she was still forbidden to see Garry, much to her chagrin.

But her disappointment hadn't lasted very long, for Ray had informed her before class that it wasn't his place she would be visiting after school. After that, school couldn't have been any slower for Ib.

By the time the silver vehicle pulled up to the parking lot of her destination, her head was swimming with nausea. She suspected the lack of sleep and the two periods of PE were factoring into her susceptibility.

"Ray, thanks again," she said as he handed over her backpack.

"Oh, no sweat," he waved his hand and took off his digital watch, strapping onto her wrist. "You have around five hours," he thumbed one of the tiny buttons that beeped in response. "Gin will be here to take you home."

She nodded her compliance, not entirely paying attention. They'd been over this, and all that was on her mind now was Garry.

Ray gave a defeated huff and climbed inside the car, rolling down the window. "Egh, we need to get rid of that tree, bro," he complained to the driver before turning back to her. "I'll take care of it if your parents call, 'kay? Have fun!"

And she watched the car roll away.

Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, Ib smoothed over the dark brown of her skirt with a sweaty palm and walked to the elevator. It didn't feel right. She was deceiving Ma and Pa, something that would have been unthinkable had Ray not been there to nudge her forward. A part of her expected his plan to be busted before she could even reach Garry's door, and she would be banned from Garry for good. Because, really, it would only take one phone call to find out she wasn't where she'd said she would be.

But was this so different from what she'd been doing all along? From the very start, she'd lied about the circumstances of her relationship with Garry, and her parents remained clueless to this day.

The door opened with a chipper _ding_ , revealing the carpeted corridor she had come to know so well. One step into it, and Ib no longer cared for the consequences. She hurried down the hallway, to where she knew he would be waiting.

* * *

Keeping the eyes closed was important.

For the absence of sight allowed the clumsiest deception, and, in the darkness, even the most unfamiliar shape would become dear.

This hair in which he buried his face, and through whose tender locks he ran his fingers, was a sweet chocolate brown. This slender body pressing up to him, melting against him so readily, carried a fragility that demanded his love and protection. Hands tugged at his back, clawing with a need that fed into his own. The sultry breaths that landed on his ear as the softest lips brushed a bruised cheekbone. He was growing hard and needy, grinding unashamed.

The obnoxious ringing was the least of his care as his arm circled the small waistline, hoisting it up, hugging it tighter against himself. He chewed lightly on one delectable lip before pulling back so that their sighs mingled, and so that he could sneak a peek at the red looking back at him. Those lashes fluttered to veil exposure as the eyes broke away.

Before Garry could return to the darkness and sink further into his fantasy, however, the girl had gone rigid in his arms, her hands no later left his back barren.

"Put me down, put me down," she muttered quickly in her hushed voice, pushing him away while keeping a furtive glance at something behind him.

"What?" he grumbled, still in the haze of arousal. With narrowed eyes, he followed her gaze over his shoulder.

Garry couldn't have dropped Scarlet any quicker, stumbling back and tripping over his own foot. It was thanks to the narrowness of his apartment's front corridor that he managed to regain his balance in time.

"…Ib?"

.

.

"D-do you want anything to drink, Ib?" he managed lamely, to which her reply was a curt shake of the head. The girl remained glued to him, face buried into his taut stomach as she warmed it with her breathing.

He had an odd feeling that all he'd been doing in her presence nowadays was offering drinks.

Ib just had to walk in on him making out… That dammed woman just never locked doors. It was already awkward enough between Ib and him, and he certainly could do without— _this_.

And Scarlet had bolted the moment sex was off the table, leaving him to clean up the aftermath. She was the one that barged into his home in the first place after yet another argument with her father.

Garry groaned under his breath, unsure of what to do. It was as though he'd been caught cheating, but that didn't make sense. Questions was whirling around his mind, crashing into one another and shattering into incomprehensible pieces. He was a perplexed and confused mess, and still very much hard from his previous endeavor. Garry clicked his tongue and tried to shift in her embrace to ease a certain area away from her. His hands hovered around before he could muster the audacity to brush his palm down the back of her head and finally return her hug.

He gave her a light tap on the back. "Hey, let's go inside, at least." What a sad excuse of a cheery tone.

And then he heard it.

A sniff.

That single sound froze Garry to the core.

"Oh, hey, hey, what's wro—"

"I missed you."

And those muffled words cut at him deeper than any knife could.

It hurt him to see her hurt.

…It felt good.

Go ahead with the masochist jokes, but it felt so good that she felt the same way as him. He'd worried for naught. Ib still needed him. In whatever strange, dysfunctional way, she still needed him in her life, and that was all that mattered to him.

Garry rubbed her back with a firm hand before prying himself from her arms, already longing for her warmth against him again. He went down to his knees and tilted his head to meet her gaze. She was staring at the floor as she tried to hold back her tears, her hands shooting up to hide her face. Of course he stopped her. He hadn't seen her in a whole week and didn't want to miss any more of this lovely expression. Nor did he want to miss the split second when her frown would turn into a smile.

He traced a finger beneath her eye, noting the dark rings, and gave her his brightest grin. "I'm glad you came, Ib. I missed you, too."

There went that discreet little smile of hers.

_**Ah…** _

He really couldn't win against this girl. Garry pulled her to him and rested his head into the crook of her neck. She seemed to stiffen for one moment, but then her tiny contours soon relaxed inside his arms, putting a giddy smirk on his face. She trusted him. It was going to take time, but they were fixing this. He held her a little tighter, his heart going crazy with the most peaceful emotions.

_**Please…** _

He'd wronged her. There was no reason why he should deserve a second chance, but she'd given him just that. He would do everything in his power to protect her from himself.

No matter what.

_**Let me love you.** _

.

"Let's get inside, okay Ib?"

Garry picked up the backpack she'd dropped on the floor and got back onto his feet. Locking the front door, he started towards the living room, contented knowing that she was following behind him.

.

.

.

The macarons were good, and so was the hot milk served in her black mug. Garry was right by her side on the couch, his smile kind and genuine, asking her about the past week and other similar small talks. She got to lean against his strong shoulder and relished in his smell that she loved so. Everything was as perfect as can be.

Yet… there was still some sort of dissatisfaction nibbling on the hem of her security blanket.

Garry hadn't been waiting.

Ib hid her pout and shuffled to lie down onto his lap, not missing the way his body tensed when her head settled onto his thigh. She rolled around so that she was facing his stomach and glanced up at him. He had a difficult look on his face as he returned her gaze. It was a somewhat tired smile that didn't reach his blue, blue eyes.

Was she doing something wrong? She just wanted to be close to him. Ib scrunched up the end of his shirt in her hand and snuggled in further. She was always so emotional when this man was concerned. Why was that?

He sighed and stroked her head with his large hand, the gesture pulling at the corners of her lips. Just like that, her bad mood had dissipated. A tender feeling draped over her, comforting and tugging at her eyelids. Her body was begging to be embraced by sleep, but Garry was the only one she wanted to be embraced by at the moment. Compromise. She squeezed her eyes shut for a short few seconds before snapping them open to look at Garry again.

As he bent forward to take a macaron, she thought there was a blemishing grey behind his bangs. Without a word, she reached up to tuck back the shaggy curtain of hair, earning herself one half-eaten macaron to the face.

"Eek, s-sorry, Ib. My hand slipped!" Garry panicked as she sat up wiping the spot where the macaron had landed. Well, that woke her up.

He kept on apologizing while getting up to find the sweet that had rolled away. When he came back, she tried again and, with much objection on Garry's part, revealed the large bruise along his left cheekbone.

"I had a scuffle. It doesn't really hurt anymore, really. It just looks bad," he defended under her incriminating stare.

One hand remaining in his hair, she brought the other up to the injury and ran her fingers over the discolored skin. He winced.

"Liar."

"N-no, it's not that!" Garry was blushing, the bruise taking on a darker shade. His eyes darting away, he attempted to wriggle free, but before he could, she gave his swollen cheek a kiss.

"Heal quickly, Garry."

Ib lay back down to hide a small smile into his shirt. She'd always liked the way he got all riled up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ray is a cheat code. The walk-in-on-make-out-session thing is cliché, but if it ain't broken... And somehow there managed to be fluff(?) at the end.
> 
> Surprised? Who'd expect I'd update so soon. It's all thanks to your wonderful support, especially those who left such kind words of encouragement. Honestly! Just do the same this chapter and see how fast I pop the next one out.
> 
> It's still a bit lonely to see the fandom slow down, but with you all letting me know you're here for the ride, it's not so bad.
> 
> I also realized that spicing up my writing palate by switching back and forth from this and The Gallery Cackles really helps with motivation and disciplining myself to write. So if any of you have a prompt/challenge for me, feel free to add to my plot bunny pool.
> 
> See you in the next chapter.
> 
> Have a nice day~


	34. Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he secretly observed her...she not so secretly watched him.

The fine grains kept on falling and falling.

They drew a trail of blue as they made a soundless descent.

And there were her red eyes, watching the cobalt sand in motion.

She sat on the rug, her head laid on folded arms and her thick fall of hair a makeshift pillow as she leant against the coffee table. The girl was so absorbed in her staring, gaze keen and undistracted. And when her finger slid down the side of the transparent bulbs, the book he was reading became mere decoration in his lap. For a second, Garry was jealous of the inanimate object.

To be the subject of her meticulous study…

"If you'd like, you can take it home," he offered from his seat on the couch, the gesture not going unrewarded as she lifted her head from the cradle of her arms and set her curious gaze on him.

"…You don't like it anymore?"

"Ah, well." He fell silent and turned the page of his book, having trouble recalling what he was reading. Such a perceptive girl. "I do. But I think you like it more. Don't you?"

"I don't know…"

There she went again with her shy nature. He couldn't help smiling whenever he thought about what a challenge it had been to get her to accept his gifts in the beginning, and how far their relationship had come since then. Now she received things from him without reservation, of course, save for the occasional backslides that he found endearing.

"It's yours, hon." Garry might not have much, but what his was hers.

"…Thanks, Garry." She returned to the hourglass and waited for it to finish the cycle, only to flip it around and let time run its course again.

Unease was welling up inside him.

His little girl had been coming over a lot these summer days, and he had that brat to thank, albeit grudgingly. Half of the time that Ib was with him during these past months had been under the guise of hanging out with the brat. While the increase in time spent with her was a welcomed feat, during moments like this, he found himself reevaluating said 'feat.'

Movies had been a great pastime, until they went through his entire collection in the first few weeks. Ib was a picky viewer. And then there was a limit to how much macarons and cocoa Garry was willing to feed her when they hung out so often. He wanted to suggest they go outside more, but she was such an indoor kid, so comfortable with staying still and doing nothing.

It was getting harder to find things to do with her. His usual fallback, which was asking her about the week, also hit a wall because they were together for the most of it.

And when conversations had been exhausted and silence dictated the room, there was little else to do but…muse.

Whenever Ib was deep in her observation, she would wear a thoughtful, faraway look that seemed so mature, her hair framing her face in the most immaculate manner. A painful squeeze of his heart marked each moment he was caught off guard by the way she glanced at him.

She told him she loved his eyes, her careless comment sowing the seed of hope that she'd someday come to love the rest of him. When she sidled up to his side, head on his shoulder and small thumb tracing the scar on his hand, it was the highest form of flattery. The space where she occupied was peaceful, like the surface of a lake without ripples, or forest after a rain, so quiet that his quickening pulse sounded like thunder.

She would keep growing, every day more beautiful than the last. Until one day the gullible sheen in her eyes would be replaced with shrewd understanding, and she'd see just how transparent he was. She'd realize how disgusting it was to have a grown man's stare on her and leave his side.

And then this heart would no longer beat.

But until then…

That black watch on her wrist, he didn't like one bit. It just wasn't her. It was angular and boyish, and the thing stuck out like a sore thumb against her fair skin. The fact that it was responsible for the irritating beeping that marked the end of their time together didn't help Garry like the abomination any better.

Territorial was one way to describe it. Garry was the only one she was supposed to rely on. He couldn't get over the fact that she still wanted the brat's help even though her parents had already allowed her to see him. But, he guessed, for her there was no qualm about receiving favors from the opposite sex. Not yet, anyway. She should learn that soon.

Sometimes Garry wondered if she felt like she had to be with him. Ib always avoided his eyes when she clung to him. Was she trying to compensate because some part of her still feared him? The thought was a punch to his chest. He'd rather—

"I'll leave it here," she said out of the blue, and he noticed her eyes were back on him.

"A-ah…?" He blinked, not quite catching on.

"The sandglass," she smiled, chin in her palm, "so that we both get to see it."

Oh, she thought he was staring at the…

"Right. Thank you, Ib." Garry really couldn't win against her.

.

.

.

"Is the book you're reading very hard, Garry?"

"U-um, hard? I don't think so. Why do you ask?"

"Oh… Because you've been reading the first page for a few days now."

Garry's smile was frozen on his lips. "…Ah yes, these first few pages…I just find them quite fascinating."

"I see."

And Garry made a mental note to get a different book next time.

* * *

It was after that day the she understood how flimsy of a grasp she had on his attention.

She'd thought that being through hell together meant that he would be her friend, but that wasn't the case. He'd been in no hurry to find her after their promise, and it only took a couple of years for him to start slipping from her hands.

So when he pulled her into that feverish embrace that was raw with pain and need, she thought the guilt she'd seen in his expression would finally keep him by her side forever. But it seemed that wasn't the case either.

He hadn't waited for her.

That lady, the one with the strange white hair and the same red eyes as Ma and her, from time to time Ib would catch glimpses of the woman in his life. On his unmade bed were stray strands of silver, stark against his choice of dark sheets. Wrinkled articles of clothing were sometimes conspicuous, while other times hidden poorly in haste. And too many times when Ib rung the bell, the lady would be behind the door, in a shirt that was clearly too big for her and smelling like Garry.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Garry reached over the table to brush his fingers through her bangs, a gentle look on his face. The sunlight that punctured the motley dome of leaves overhead shone off his tousled hair, combing it more vibrant and lively. "You're awfully quiet."

Ib shook her head no and tucked back a wind-swept lock, leaning in to make it easier for him to stroke her cheek. Though, the length of his arm rendered her gesture unneeded. She was acutely aware of the way his sleeveless jacket showed off each bony edge of his shoulder.

Garry was so very different from her. Everything about him was larger than she, hard lines making up his strong build, and there was a certain degree of roughness to his hands. He knew many things and articulated himself so well.

He gave the goofiest reaction to the smallest things, and when she called his name, he always had a smile for her. It was during those moments that she felt she could be closer to him.

But on some days when his mind was elsewhere, his voice as he spoke to her would slip from the usual falsetto and into an unfamiliar timber. Looking at his distracted expression, she would again be reminded of the paper thin distance between them she could never seem to cross.

He was like a wispy moonlit night, filled with the unknown and slightly intimidating, but altogether comforting. By his side, there were no prying eyes, no judgments. He never pressed for any answers, yet still managed to understand her every thought.

"Is it too hot? Sorry I dragged you out here." His fingers were with a hint of sweat, mildly cool on her skin.

She just shook her head again, not wanting to dwell on her disgruntlement. He chuckled, most likely seeing through her ruse.

His irises were so blue, and she'd never realized how much she liked it when they addressed only her. Until recently…

It was on a Saturday evening that Ib hadn't responded to his voice, pretending to be asleep so that she didn't have to go home. The mattress surrounding her had caved as he bent down and hovered over her for the longest time. There was a nervous rap in her chest. She could feel his gaze on her and imagined his beautiful orbs studying her. And in the quietness of it all, his breath wafting against her ear warned her of their increasing proximity.

Ib had thought her heart couldn't be any louder when he whispered into her ear, exposing her ploy and causing her to jump involuntarily. As he left the room chuckling, she had all but forgotten about her foiled little plan and only wished that he'd kept on watching her a little longer.

"Garry…" she called even though she didn't really have anything to say.

"Hmm?" His smile never failed to sooth her. But she understood that those cerulean eyes, no matter how intensely they held hers, were fully capable of wandering.

Garry's life did not revolve around her like she'd come to assume so egoistically. There were others in his life. Adults like him. Peers of equal standing. People he could talk to and confide in with matters he knew a kid didn't comprehend and therefore would never tell her. But that was fine, because Ib really was just a kid. What wasn't fine was how much of that lady she was seeing in his life.

She felt uncomfortable in the older girl's presence. Ib was especially cautious with the way Scarlet kept trying to strike up conversations with her. And she was sure Garry knew how she felt.

So why?

"I'm ba~ck." At the sound of the voice, Garry withdrew his hand, much to her disappointment, and sat back in his bench. They both turned to the blonde who came up to them with cold drinks from the vending machine. "You sure you only want water, Ib?"

"Yes…thank you." She received the bottle with both hands, the cool object a pleasure to hold in the sultry heat.

"Just tell me if you want anything else, mmkay?" Scarlet cracked open her can of juice and took her seat next to Garry.

Ib pressed her lips together.

"Where's my coke?"

"There wasn't any."

"I'm sorry but, there's no _coke?_ "Garry drawled with one unconvinced brow quirked.

The lady took a gulp of her drink and shrugged. "Fine. I ran out of changes."

"…Give me some of yours then, Ib."

"No," Scarlet swatted his hand away. "Get your own, Wolfe. I bought that for her."

"Get off my back. It's so hot out there." Garry was tugging at the collar of his tank top for extra ventilation.

"Why yes. By the way, thanks for offering to go buy drinks in my stead. Such chivalry."

"Oh, but, dear, I remember hearing you rant about how chivalry is sexist."

And they bickered and bickered, just as usual.

Ib sat on her side of the table, feeling envious of the verbal tennis that went on so naturally, so unlike the silence when she was alone with Garry. She'd asked, but Garry was adamant he didn't enjoy Scarlet's gibes, after which statement he had to explain to her what 'gibes' meant, and then pleaded that she never become anything like Scarlet. However, she couldn't help wondering if being a little more like that would make spending time with her less of a chore for him.

If she was just a little better at talking, maybe he wouldn't feel the need to have Scarlet around.

Ib pushed the water to Garry, pressing the cold bottle to his arm and successfully gaining his attention. "We can share."

His expression, though had been hard from annoyance, immediately melted into a grin. "Aw, thank you, sweetheart." To the side, she could hear Scarlet smacking her tongue as Garry took the bottle and opened it with one sharp twist. To think she'd been trying to get the cap to turn without success. "Here, you can drink first," he offered, handing the drink back to her.

"Perv," Scarlet commented for some reason, and they started arguing again.

Ib sighed, sipping at her water.

.

"I'm going to the restroom," she informed and stood up.

"Oh?" Garry acknowledged before flopping her sunhat onto her head.

"I also—" Scarlet made a motion to stand up, but then settled back down in a strange manner.

"Be careful, all right Ib? Don't talk to strangers," Garry smiled, waving her off.

Ib nodded and took off into the sunny park. Having left the shades, the heat of the day showered down on her without mercy. She crossed the wide spread of grass, passing by other park-goers, her pace slowing until she came to a vehement stop. They treated her like a clueless child. She could put two and two together. Garry and Scarlet were somehow _that_ , a couple. What she didn't understand was why they bothered to at all.

Ib kept a firm hand on her hat. As a strong gust plastered the fabric of her dress to her body, she turned around to spy on the two sitting in the same bench, looking like they wanted nothing to do with each other.

* * *

"You can let go of me now," the girl said with folded arms, and Garry released the fistful of her blouse from his hold. "How rough." She complained, pouting as she reached back to straighten her clothes. "Why can't you be more like when we're in bed?"

"We agreed not to mention that," his voice was void of any humor. "And you should stop these antics. She's uncomfortable around you."

"All thanks to you, jackass! Every time she sees me, I bet she thinks, 'oh, it's the person I met after Garry shoved his'—"

"Shut. Up." He cut her off, each word came through clenched teeth as white knuckles jutted out from the back of his hands.

Scarlet closed her mouth with a huff. "…Sorry," she turned away from him. "Hurry up and fix that face before you scare your little girl away for good."

The muscle on his face twitched at the reminder. Garry took a deep breath and unclenched his palms, trying to relax whatever hideous scowl he was wearing.

"I took her home before, Garry. I promise I don't mean her any harm."

Garry regarded her pleading eyes with apathy. "If you don't mean her any harm, what's stopping you from telling me what you want with her? You're related to Garland, honey. I had no choice before, but I will not leave Ib alone with you until I know what's going on."

She tried not to show it, but he could see the frown in the slant of her mouth. "You still owe me at least this much. And so help me, I will give you a longer lasting bruise if you ever suggest I share any blood with that sociopath again."

"Semantics," he rolled his eyes, taking a large gulp from the water bottle, admittedly conscious about the childish notion of an indirect kiss. Scarlet's accusation of perversion was right on the mark he supposed. "I owe you, Scarl, and that's why you're seeing her at all. This is as far as I'll allow it without any information. She's too important."

Scarlet snorted. "Please, Garbear, your big talk sounds like bullshite knowing what you did to her. I'm done listening. But if you're that hell-bent on protecting her, you should think about what you're gonna do when that man finds out," she smirked, pleased with whatever look she saw on his face. "I'm telling you he will sooner or later, and not by me, I assure. That is if he hasn't already found out. As someone who's been dealing with Leonard for years, I think you'd want me on your side."

Before Garry could express his disbelief in her words, Scarlet had already gotten to her feet. "Now, when you're ready to leave Ib alone with me, just offer, okay _honey_?" As soon as she finished, the girl headed out into the sun to meet Ib halfway.

And then, she finagled him into buying them ice cream.

By the time he was back at his apartment, Garry was spent and still mulling over Scarlet's words.

He'd ruled it impossible that that Mr. Garland already knew about the incident. If the man did, he would have been confronted by now. And if neither he, nor Ib, nor Scarlet talked then they could take this to the grave.

Garry reassured himself with that thought as he crashed onto his bed. Everything was going to be fine. He buried into the pillow and emptied his mind.

.

His eyes snapped open to the darkness of his room, anxiety roiling into life in the pit of his stomach as a different thought occurred to him. Who was responsible for that anonymous note he'd received the morning after the incident?

* * *

Nicholas slouched in his seat and started a large yawn as he wiped a torpid hand over his face. The glaring sun outside the window made his eyes hurt. He was used to pulling an unhealthy amount of all-nighters, yet jet lags from travelling across the globe were always awful for him.

Pushing the heavy glasses up the bridge of his nose, he glanced across the heavy mahogany desk to where his friend was going over the terms of their contract, and then to the side where his little sister stood in witness. She had a sickly quality to her with that pale albino skin, so it was hard to tell if she was fine. He thought about commenting on the sunlight, but decided not to voice his concern. The girl disliked being called out on her condition, and he was sure she knew her limits.

"All right, fair enough." Leonard's voice brought his gaze back in front, just as the other man flipped open a laptop and typed in the changes. It didn't take long before a new piece of paper, warm from the printer, was presented before him together with a pen. "Here you go."

A groan was stuck in his throat as Nicholas leant forward to grab the pen and sign the document. "Anything else?" he inquired with bloodshot eyes, sliding the paper back to Leonard.

"That's all." His friend smiled without the usual playful attitude, and it was disconcerting to say the least. But he supposed with something like this…

The pen clacked against the glass surface when he stood up and set it down with more force than intended. "Get me the jet then. I still got work to do back home." And maybe get it done before his daughter comes back and the arguing starts again.

To the request, Leonard shrugged an okay and got to his feet also. Nicholas glanced at his sister, nodding goodbye, before heading to the door with Leonard.

They stood in silence as they waited for the elevator to arrive. When the metal door opened, Nicholas received a loud slap in the back as a parting gift.

"Well then, doctor, I'll leave Garry in your care."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet most of you forgot about that little mystery. (Even Garry forgot, lol) Anyone wanna take a stab at guessing who the anonymous informant is?
> 
> I can't believe how easily this came to me considering I had no clue what to write at the start. Y'all are beautiful people and your support really keep me going.
> 
> Summer is ending, sadly, and I have no confidence I can keep up this update rate. Finally got a job. Couple that with a full time schedule, and I'm here praying I didn't bite off more than I can chew. Perhaps you could send me some u̶p̶d̶a̶t̶e̶ ̶n̶a̶g̶ encouraging words over the fall semester.
> 
> On another note, I put up a wordpress blog as an archive for my writings. I'm still uploading stuff, but do come and check it out, (there might be teasers for the next chapter) maybe even say hello. Just google tragheitnoikikata.
> 
> Until next time then!
> 
> Have a nice day~


	35. Entangle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The red string is all knotted up...

What little evening air that pushed its way through the open window was cool, carrying the city's distant humming into his quiet apartment.

_It's okay,_ he heard his own voice whisper, his lips frozen under warm brushes of air, tingling from the swift contact that they now missed. Eyes of ruby remained half-veiled by secretive lashes, peering back at him with a flicker of something he couldn't place, but beautiful nonetheless. So much that he was afraid to move, to even breathe lest he disturbed this moment; so very delicate.

The dainty hand on his chest, right where the raucous beating was, twisted into his shirt, holding such power over him, and he felt his heart twisting along with it, painful, but egging him on, pushing him to feel—more, much more than he should ever allow himself to again. His lungs burned for air, and with the same desperation his mouth thirsted for the taste of her.

Their noses still touched. Just one more time, he bargained. Just one more time; what could it hurt?

He wanted to feel the rose of her sun-caressed cheek. He wanted to comb the silk of her hair, and rub the slender of her nape, and crush her wee form to himself, never letting go. But alas, his hands weren't his, uselessly heavy on the chair he sat in, shackled by uncertainty and fright. Fright because that look in her eyes gripped at his soul, fright because her warm breaths clouded his mind in a euphoric haze, fright because the weight on his thighs pleased him far too much; fright because he knew what he would do if he let himself.

Her soft call of his name, wispy syllables landing on his lips, a feather-light force that crumbled his willpower to fading dust.

He gasped, taking in an unexpected breath.

The air that filled him was of the sweetest tang.

* * *

Ib was in the backseat, watching unfamiliar streets scroll past her view through the window. The _tree_ was still there, dangling away beneath the rearview mirror, its scent still permeating the confined space with a zeal that Ib was sure no one appreciated. Was it the same tree for the past four months or was it a new one? Either way, the 'fresh' smell had never let up in Gin's car.

In the face of the still overpowering air freshener, Ib tried to limit her respiration to shallow puffs as she wondered when they were going to arrive. If this had been any other time, she would have hardly noticed the discomfort when what waited for her at the end of the ride was a whole day alone with Garry. However, today the car was headed elsewhere, to her chagrin, and the reason for that occurred yesterday.

" _No."_

In the silence of her room, the rejection had been as clear as the sky of the Tuesday afternoon. With his baseball cap pulled low, Ray had attempted to hide his expression from her, but his feeling was blatant. The boy she'd come to associate with nothing but smiles and positivity had worn a pout so big that an octopus would have been sent running for its money.

That was the prelude to an awkward series of exchanges between them, with Ib, wanting to strike the rejection from her mind, dismissing the topic while Ray kept insisting she asked him about it.

And so it came to pass, in the face of Ray's own brand of tenacity, she yielded, with much reluctance. The question was asked, and the boy hinted in no certain words that she wasn't spending as much time with him as she did with Garry. For such a straightforward person, Ray still held reservations when it came to matters concerning himself.

To say she was surprised would be an understatement. Ib had been stunned at the time, never expecting Ray to say no, which was rather presumptuous of herself now that she'd reflect on it. After all, they'd only been friends for so long, and Garry had cautioned her against bothering Ray.

Ib had realized she was asking for a lot from Ray and his driver, but she couldn't afford to…

"A–nd, we're here," the dark-haired driver announced as he pulled into a cul-de-sac lined with tall pillars of trees, whose thick canopies fended off the scorching sun overhead, dousing the neighborhood in a cool green hue. She could see a couple of people taking a stroll along the sidewalk with their two dogs on the leash. The canines barked, and the women slowed their pace, waving at the car gliding by.

Out of the corner of her eyes, Ib could see Gin returning the gesture as they headed further inside, only stopping when they reached the dead end.

The engine turned off, Ib pushed her way out of the car while trying to make it not look like the desperate escape that it was. _Actual_ fresh air generously greeted her as she took in the first deep breath since she had climbed into the car. She had thought about asking Gin to throw away the tree, but voted against it. Scents were like tastes, and everybody had their own.

Ray's house, she observed as the driver lead her along the curve of the stone steps, held a rustic feel to it with a composition of red brick and unpolished wood. The design was made modern with dark glass windows that glazed the length of the second story, and compared to the neighborhood it looked new.

The idea of meeting Ray's parents for the first time intimidated her to no end, and she had to wonder how the boy could just waltz into her home and be so…at home. Ib tugged at the strap of her crossbody bag and straightened her clothes out of nervousness, suddenly conscious of the unmistakable tan she'd acquired over the last month. This summer, Garry had taken to going out whenever they got together, and the inevitable result of the outings were tan lines she wasn't used to getting. She regretted wearing her sundress that showcased where the sleeves of her many T-shirts ended, but it had been too hot to consider anything else.

The front door opened before Gin could take out the keys, and behind it was Ray in a tank top and baggy shorts. "You're here! Come on in," the boy grinned his thousand-watts smile, gesturing her inside with his head as she took notice of the champagne flute in his hand, a dark liquid sloshing inside at the half-full level.

Ray was at it again. Though the sight was alarming, she knew the drink was only grape juice. Ray just liked to pretend he was drinking wine.

"You kids play nice; I'm gonna go pick up the missus, a'ight?" the driver said, rubbing Ray's head before returning to the car.

The information didn't escape her as she crossed the threshold, Ray closing the door behind her. "Your mother is out?" she asked, not entirely sure if she'd prefer that. One the one hand, she would be able to put off meeting someone new, but on the other hand, getting the greetings over with from the start would be better than having his mother walking in on them.

"Yeah, work. She's usually home, though. Mom really wanted to meet you. Oh, you don't have to take off your shoes." He stopped her when she started to bend down. "Come, come. I'll show you around."

Ib had never been to a friend's place before and was glad that Ray was taking the initiative as usual. The boy stowed the flute away after cleaning it, then pattered barefoot from place to place and room to room, narrating the entire story of the house to the best of his ability. The decoration inside the house was simple and random in nature, seemingly knick-knacks one would pick out from garage sales. It was very different from her home, or most houses she'd been to, rugged and cozy as opposed to spacious immaculateness. Some corners felt more cluttered than others, and when she commented on it, Ray sheepishly admitted his father was a bit of a hoarder.

They idled in his room, a little den on the second floor looking out into the backyard, Ray chatting away about something that no longer held her interest. She thought about how she could have been with Garry today, how disappointed he had sounded on the phone when she'd informed him of her new plan, and wondering…how much of that disappointment was real.

"Hey, Ib."

"…Yeah?" she tore her gaze from its fixation point somewhere outside the window.

Green eyes slowly watched her as his lips pursed. "Have you eaten? Do you want some snacks or drinks?"

She shook her head. "I'm okay." Paused. "By the way, Pa said you can't use his flute next time," she added conversationally.

"What! Aw…" The exaggerated expression on his face put a smile on hers.

Their conversation soon died down after Ray finished pointing out where a treehouse was hidden between the branches of the large tree in the backyard. He had wanted to show her its interior, but having never climbed so high without the facilitation of stairs, Ib politely declined. The silence stretched as they sat on his bed, Ray dangling his leg and Ib drifting back into reverie.

Despite her wish to be with Garry, it wasn't as though she minded Ray's company. She appreciated his presence and admired the way he carried himself, full of confidence and self-efficacy. He never had trouble expressing his thoughts and always made her feel good about herself. He reminded her so much of Garry.

But he just wasn't Garry, she realized now.

"Where's your father?" she asked, noticing that Ray seemed uncomfortable with the silence.

"Ah, he's at work," the boy perked up, grabbing at the chance to talk. "He'll be home early today for once."

"What does he do?"

His chest puffed out with pride. "He's a police officer. He's so strong and cool. I want to be just like him when I'm older."

"I see."

"Yeah."

And the silence returned.

Well, she tried. If even the talkative Ray was stumped for words, what chance did she have? Usually, he would be telling her about what he'd done over the week, with animated hand gestures and sound effects where appropriate. She had seen from his stories that the boy went out of his way to entertain himself outside of school, making the most of his long summer vacation. She was even a tiniest bit jealous of all the experiences he'd had. What went wrong today was that they had just met yesterday, and her friend had already exhausted his weekly story reservoir.

Next to her, Ray fell back on his bed with an exasperated sigh. "Hey, when mum comes back do you…do you wanna head to Garry's?" His question turned her head to him.

It took a moment for her to process his words, and another to stop herself from leaping at the obvious answer. His eyes held her perplexed as she struggled to come up with a response other than the resounding _yes_ that was blaring in her heart.

"It's all right, I'm…" He messed up his already tousled ash-blond locks and grunted out another sigh. "I'm sorry I forced you to come. I know you're mad."

She blinked at him. "I'm not."

"You only say that." Ray sprung to his feet and started walking about, no longer able to stand the idleness. "It's okay, I shouldn't have forced you. I… My parents wanted to meet you. And I thought that you already spend so much time with Garry…so…and it's just one day. But, y'know, mostly because of my parents." His voice grew smaller at the end as he averted his eyes.

"No, Ray, I'm not angry," she tried to organize her explanation with difficulty, half her mind still circling the notion that she could see Garry. But she willed herself to focus, because she had to make sure he understood. There was no way she would be mad at him. He was one of the very few she could call friend, and she feared the loss of his friendship. "I've…constantly troubled you. I should be asking if _you're_ mad."

He looked astonished, shaking his head. "What? No way. There's been no trouble." At her disbelieving stare he continued, hand to his hip. "Look, your mom has only phoned twice. I honestly expected more close calls and stuff. And maybe Gin has to drive you around, but that's his job. The guy's too free otherwise."

The room once again descended into silence as they let the words that had been said sink in. But it wasn't long before she spoke.

"I'm glad." Ib let a small smile onto her expression, catching his gaze, seeing that he, too, smiled after a brief confused look.

"Well, I'm also glad you're not mad." He flopped back down next to her, shoulders slumped. "But I can tell you're not too enthusiastic about today, either. So, just go see Garry, 'kay?"

The return to the topic that started this whole conversation made the mood all awkward again. Before she could feel guilty about it, Ray sensed her hesitation and gave her a nudge with his elbow. "It might be a while before my mom comes back, though, so you'll need to put up with me a little longer." He laughed a soft laugh that brightened up the atmosphere.

It was then that Ib was reminded exactly why she liked Ray. "Okay." She did not hide her smile.

.

"Come see the treehouse, Ib." The mischievous glint in his eyes, emphasized by the confidence in his voice, told her declining was not an option.

Ib resigned, knowing she was in no position to anyway. Friends put up with each other' antics.

She liked Ray very much.

She liked him, but…

He just wasn't the one on the verge of being snatched away by Scarlet.

* * *

Ib was not surprised when the door opened and silver tresses fluttered into her view. She had expected this. She had expected it, but the disappointment was still abundantly there, more staggering than she anticipated. The thought that she could have prevented the lady from being here probably had something to do with it.

Scarlet looked surprised, then confused, before her mouth was released from the stern line that had made up a scowl. The older girl dropped down to Ib's height, tilting her head in a chipper greeting which made Ib back away mentally. Scarlet's unwarranted friendliness disconcerted her without needing Garry to warn her of how dubious it was.

"So this is why that boorish man was so frantic in kicking me out." A scoff flung over her shoulder. "How have you been, Ib? Looks like someone has been in the sun quite a bit. I've been thinking of getting a little color on myself as well. The weather hasn't been too dry for you, has it?" Scarlet inquired, chin in her palm, patient, but leaving no room for Ib to forego replying.

"I'm okay…" She twisted the strap of her bag, eyes darting from the lady to the corridor behind her, calling out for Garry in her mind. Scarlet was in her own clothes this time, at least, but the fragrant of lavender could not be ignored.

Ib pushed the line of thought away.

She just wanted to head inside and immerse herself in Garry's calming scent, also lavender, but deep and musky unlike Scarlet's cloying flowery one. But the lady was blocking her only doorway to him, and she couldn't help but feel that Scarlet, with features perpetuated by a light smile, was deriving glee from standing in her path.

"Summer's almost over, hm. We should hang out sometimes before school starts getting busy again, just us two." Scarlet caught her gaze. "What do you think, Ib?"

She held back a groan of discomfort, unable to look away for fear of appearing rude. As much as she disliked Scarlet, she was taught better, and the lady had been nothing but amiable towards her. Anything less than cordial would be unacceptable.

"Hey!" There was sharp mutter and a click of a tongue, and Scarlet was yanked away from her. Garry stood behind Scarlet, hand gripping her by the elbow, displeasure thick in his expression. His messy locks clung to his face, tipped with droplets of water rolling down his cheeks and neck, wetting the collar of a shirt that looked carelessly thrown on.

* * *

Garry closed the door behind him, locking _and_ bolting it because his mind had briefly entertained the thought that Scarlet might try to sneak back in again. Perhaps it was unfair, as the girl only came back to retrieve her forgotten violin case, but Garry was too ruffled to care. He needed to reconsider whether handing Scarlet a key was as convenient as he had originally surmised.

"You gotta start giving me better heads up, Ib…" he mumbled under his breath as he shook out some of the water in his hair, a sigh escaping his lips.

He gazed down the corridor, into the dark living room that clung onto what little light the sun had left to offer, suddenly not too excited he'd gotten rid of Scarlet. The hasty shower hadn't done much to wash away the…prior context…in his mind, and his blood was still abuzz with hormones.

He shouldn't keep her waiting. Ib would seek him out if he took too long, anyway.

Deep breath. Garry buttoned up the few top buttons he'd neglected when stumbling out of the bathroom. He squared his shoulder and tried not to drag his feet on his way in. He was tired. Oh, but tired was good. Tired was very good, because it meant things were less likely to happen. His needs had been sated and he was exhausted. Physically, he couldn't be more prepped to be with his little princess. Even if his imagination were to stray and he start having ideas, if his body wasn't able…

"So sweetie, what'd you do today with your friend?" he asked as soon as he located her on the couch, her small figure shadowed by darkness. "Why didn't you turn on the light?" he added as an afterthought, hitting the switch next to the threshold.

Garry didn't even have to force himself to smile, as he actually needed to stop himself from grinning like an idiot at the mere sight of her. Though her visit had been sprung up on him, all that this boiled down to was that he could be with her. Everything else be damned.

"Ray showed me his treehouse." Ib was hugging her bag to her chest, seemingly distracted as she scanned her surrounding with what seemed like apprehension in her eyes. But there was no reason for that…was there? So he dismissed it as him overthinking and went over to pick up the towel he'd dropped on the floor.

"Oh? I haven't seen many of those around. How was it?" He was absentminded as he dried his hair, seating himself into the armchair across from her. The usual routine of nudging her to talk. Garry had honed his small talk skills to an art spending time with Ib.

"Climbing it was hard."

He paused. For all the instances he'd been by her side, the notion of Ib engaging in climbing made as little sense to him as a foreign language. " _You_ climbed?" He couldn't help the chuckle in his voice. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" His eyes flickered over her, finding no visible damage, to his relief. She was hardly dressed for the activity.

Ib shook her head, gaze drifting to her open palm for one quick moment before returning to him.

Garry narrowed his eyes. She was especially withdrawn today, he could sense, going as far as lying in order not to talk about it. And such a bad liar, too. "Let me see that." He got to his feet and it only took two steps to tower over the girl, holding his hand out for hers.

"No, it's okay." She was stubborn.

He let the towel drape over his shoulder and went to fetch the first aid kit, taking out some cotton balls as he returned. "I promise it won't hurt too much?" He got to his knees and offered his hand again.

"…It's not that… I…" Her eyes darted away, then back to him, her lips pressed together like every other time that she struggled to speak her mind, before she showed him her palm.

So she was troubled by something today and wanted to consult with him. A part of him wished the blond brat had offended her and she'd stay away from the kid for good, but he supposed that would be too convenient a development for him.

Garry gently took her wrist and pulled it closer to better observe the wound. It was a light scrape, skin deep, but big enough that people wouldn't just walk it off. "Really, Ib…" He disinfected it, flailing a bit when he felt her wince at the touch of antiseptic.

"Garry…"

"Hmm?" He looked up from smoothing out the gauze, knowing she wouldn't continue without assurance that she had his full attention.

"Why do you keep seeing Scarlet?"

He'd expected a child's concern, naïve wondering or perhaps baseless worries. This topic, however, took him by surprise, and he clambered to cover up the shock. Not that she hadn't already felt the way his hands had frozen around her wrist. "Why, because we're friends, dear." He did his best to smile at inquisitive eyes. Ask him the same question half a year ago and he wouldn't have hesitated with this description of their relationship. Now it sounded like mockery.

"I don't like Scarlet." If he had been shocked before, now Garry was speechless, and he didn't bother hiding it. There was nothing new about her dislike for Scarlet, no. What got him was the fact that _she_ , _Ib_ of all people, had confessed to such a sentiment.

"Please don't see her anymore," she said with an inscrutable look, head lowered as though ashamed of her own words. Such self-incriminating expressions had no place on her features! He shook himself awake and raised a hand to her cheek, brushing back some fine strands that had fallen loose.

"Don't look like that, Ib. I'm glad you're letting me know how you feel." He saw the spark of expectancy in her eyes and decided he had to shoot it down before it became a full-blown hope. "But I'm sorry; I can't just stop seeing her… We're friends."

_Friend._ Such a handy word. Every time he used it, the word lost a little more of its meaning for him. Scarlet and he were friends, but outside of bed they just wanted to claw each other's eyes out. Ib and he were friends…that was turning out stellar, too. But it was true he couldn't let Scarlet go. The girl knew what he was going through. They both were despicable and cowardly. They were both vying for something they couldn't have. And they both can offer what the other wanted. It was healthy as malaria, but it was a tie he didn't want cut.

"I'll try to keep her away from you from now on." Garry closed the plastic kit and left it on the coffee table as he stood up to get back to his seat. He didn't want to put so much thought in Ib's current expression, wiping a hand over his face.

"But you don't like Scarlet either. You always fight."

He froze again, eyes locked with hers. She knew. Of course she knew; he hadn't exactly tried to hide it. Neither had he counted on her to peruse the contradiction.

"No, no, I…" He shook his head slowly, finger pinching the bridge of his nose, an onset of migraine looming. Scarlet angered him and her hypocritical lectures made bile rise in his throat. But after he cooled down…they had still been friends, before all of this. Rather than dislike, it was simply…rue. "We're in disagreement, hon." He settled further into the armchair for some form of anchor and stability, face rested against his knuckles. "But if we just stopped seeing each other because of some rough patches then we wouldn't be friends now, would we?" Such a pretty way of putting it.

"I don't understand." She frowned.

Good. "You don't have to. Adults are complicated like that." Draw the line. Alienate her. Make sure she didn't cross over.

There was a moment of silence where she didn't meet his eyes, and he thought the discussion was over. He thought he would let her ruminate over it a little more before steering her away from this depressing topic. Boy was he wrong.

"I get it." The words were icy needles that sewed cold fear into his heart, and he stared at her calm with eyes wide. "It's those things…" Her expression faltered, and he knew exactly what _things_ she was referring to—and knew he would suffer her scorn whether he denied or confirmed it.

"Garry?"

He didn't dare look at her any longer, pinning his gaze to the coffee table in front of him.

The cinches on her leather bag rustled as she set it down beside her. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ib getting to her feet, the action startling him, and his heart sped up when she made the first step towards him.

It took three steps for her to come into view. Four, for her to stand right before him, demanding his full attention. He drew a shallow breath and lifted his eyes to meet hers.

"Do you have to?"

"…Yes."

He'd confirmed it. He thought the least he could do was treat her like an equal in this conversation.

"Yes, I need to." _In order to stay by your side._

Ib's expression became wry, and he tried not to read into it. She understood, but wouldn't fully do so until much later, and by then he would have already left her side.

Garry glanced to the digital clock on the TV and was shocked to find the hourglass still with a generous puddle of sand dripping from the upper bulb. Scarlet must have fiddled with it when she'd come back, but by god, it hadn't even been fifteen minutes since he'd gotten rid of the witch? It felt as though this talk had gone on for hours. If he suggested she head home for today, he would surely be met with objection.

"Then…those things…" He felt the cushion beneath him shift, felt her presence leaning forward and as his attention scrambled to focus back on her, a warm breath caressed his lips. Then a tender, ephemeral touch.

He _felt_ her murmur, "Do them with me instead."


	36. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was illogical...nonsensical.

Madness.

This love he had for her was madness. It was illogical. Nonsensical.

What was there to crave about a child's body, whose curves had barely developed, and limbs so frail that even a casual hug demanded caution? Evolutionarily, it didn't make sense. Socially, it didn't make sense.

Personally, it didn't make sense, either.

Yet still everything about her convinced him further that loving her was only inevitable. The blink of her beautiful eyes that bore no guile. The smile on her face could give colors back to any gloomy sky, and her rare laughter was the sweetest music that ever drummed his ears. Her tiny stature that simply belonged in his arms.

Hesitant fingers that brushed the length of his jaw.

She was nervous. The tentative kiss was too light, too much of a tease that it only whet his appetite for more, and he grew impatient.

He had to resist. Push her away. Make her leave.

"Y-you need to go," he said breathlessly, sinking further into the armchair to distance himself from her. It wasn't by much, but he didn't trust his hands to move.

She was still too close, the displeasure clear in the way her lips pursed; pink, soft, and was on his just moments before. "No."

"Ib," he growled, didn't mean to. If Ib was startled, she didn't show it. "Please get off. This isn't something to be stubborn ab—"

His words were cut off as her lips met his again, surer this time with a hint of defiance. Garry nearly jumped out of his skin as he felt something wet brushed up against his lips. His eyes were wide, and as his jaw slacked, she wormed her tiny little tongue into his mouth. Clumsy, but, by god, each stroke was debilitatingly delicious.

Garry could barely hold himself back, squirming under her, felt the reigns slipping from his worn, bloodied hands as her body stayed so readily on him, enticing him further. It hurt so much. He wanted her so badly. But he couldn't allow himself to make the same mistake again.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her from himself. That split second he saw Ib wince from his grip. Her surprised, fearful eyes looking back at him. He didn't have the mind to address any of that.

"You…" he started but failed to form any coherent thought. His heart continued to bruise itself against his ribcage. His hands were clammy, and his breaths shallow. She was beautiful, his Ib. His innocent Ib. Her kiss. She shouldn't have. Oh god, he'd been the one to corrupt her. She was so beautiful still. His innocent Ib. He couldn't.

He couldn't.

His lips came crashing against hers, their teeth hitting each other and all.

She was giving him permission, offering herself to him. How could he refuse?

It was messy, primal, as he forced her mouth open, found her tongue and delved deeper still.

Warm. So delectably hot. Her steamy breath tickled his cheek. Her sweet nectar slaking his thirst, and he wanted more. A lot more.

So once again, he'd succumbed.

There was something wrong with him. Of course, there had always been something wrong with him. This was madness. But why should he care when just her mere presence in his arms made everything feel so damn right?

A part of him warned him to be gentle. The part that was terrified he was going to scare her again. Scar her. The part that was quickly drowning in the savage tides of his passion for her.

His hands began to roam. Down her wee back and up her belly. Her hands weakly followed his, holding onto them but powerless to influence their courses. She was becoming taut underneath his touch, heart thrumming under his palm. Whatever squeak she produced, he greedily swallowed. Sliding under the fabric of her dress, he felt the smoothness of her thigh and rounded to her hip, pulling her closer, keeping her there.

Ib whimpered as he parted for breath, and their feverish sighs mingled. Her face was flushed. He could feel her start to tremble, and there was the hint of tears dewing at the corners of her eyes that he chose to ignore. He buried his face into her neck, kissing her tender flesh and relishing the sunny scent from her soft locks.

_You're scaring her again._

**_Well, isn't that just perfect._** His other side hissed back.

If she started screaming and running away from him now, he was sure he wouldn't chase her. Would never meet her again, either. He was much too tired, too wounded. And it would be for the best.

Whom was he kidding trying to fix this fraudulent friendship and act as if nothing had happened?

**_Hurry._ **

She strained against the hand he had behind her neck, sending broken, sultry breaths brushing his jaw, further igniting his desire as he heard her cry his name in the quietest snivel. The pain from where her fingers dug into his chest was his final and quickly crumbling anchor to sanity.

_Yes, like that._

He ran his thumb over her lips and kissed her once more.

**_Just a bit more._ **

It was a great struggle that he managed to wrench himself from her seductive mouth, trailing kisses to her ear. "Ib," he muttered, earning a startled sob from her, and even as his stomach turned at the sound, he continued to crave.

_Stop me, please._

He kissed her ear, crushed her to himself and shuddered at perverse pleasure from having her against his crotch. She was stiff from fear, but would not fight him. He was going to hurt her again.

And he didn't want that.

That time she'd run from him.

God, he didn't want to feel like that again. Didn't want her to have to be that frightened again.

He loved her so much. Wanted her so much. And she was giving herself to him, said it was okay.

"Say no, Ib." He rested his head onto her trembling shoulder, holding onto her, unwilling to let go even as he said, "Just say no and I'll stop."

As he felt Ib shake her head, his heart tightened with both sickness and glee. He was disgusted, so tired of fighting, frustrated, exhausted, so confused, so happy and so damn scared of what was about to come.

And _what_ was about to come, even?

"I…" It was his turn to flinch at the sound of her voice, choked with the tears she wiped into the crook of his neck, as she snuggled even closer to him—if that was possible still. "I don't want you to leave me. So…"

"Do them with me."

His eyes went wide.

"The things you do with Scarlet—I'm fine, so…" Her breath hitched with a sob, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Do whatever you like. Just don't leave me."

It broke his heart that even now he was hurting her. The only way he knew how not to hurt her was still hurting her. What was he supposed to do? Their relationship – what was left of it, anyway – was so broken beyond repair. They were never meant to be. That gallery sure had played one cruel, twisted game bringing them together.

If he'd never been saved…

If he'd never met her…

"Please, Garry." The hurt in her voice clawed at him, and like an instinct, he tried to soothe her, rubbing the small back at his palm.

"Ib, I'm not leaving you."

She shook her head. "You will," she said with so much conviction, and it sickened him that she was right.

"Listen here." He tried pulling her from him and was met with resistance before she finally complied. The sight of her tear-streaked face only made the guilt all the more nauseating in the pit of his stomach. He cupped her face and dried away what droplets that still glazed her beautiful, beautiful red eyes.

"I love you, Ib." Though she would never know how much. She'd come to despise it even. "I will _never_ leave you." He smiled the best smile he could, heard his own voice beginning to crack. Another lie to add to an ever-growing list. Drop in the bucket, really.

Ib leant her face into Garry's warm hand as she stared back at him. His smile was so dear, so precious, and somehow very wrong. Once again, it didn't feel like one of his normal smiles. His voice had slipped back to that unfamiliar timbre, and she had felt something shudder inside her chest, almost like a resonance with his words.

She loved him, too; though distrust at his sincerity allowed no confession on her part.

She didn't want to lose him.

Ib let go of the handful of his shirt, the fabric now wrinkled from her sweaty palm, and held up her pinky. "Promise?"

"Of course, it's a promise." He locked his pinky with hers quickly. Too quickly.

Yet still, through the blur of renewed tears, a smile came to her lips. "Thank you, Garry." She leant forward and kissed him on the mouth, feeling him becoming rigid underneath her.

Now, it puzzled her greatly that he would have such a reaction. Ib had thought he wanted these things, and that he would be happy if she kissed him. Would smile at her, and would stay hers forever.

As she pulled back, her heart was pounding heavily in her chest. Her entire being was trembling, weak from exertion and weary from fright. She was scared. But it was Garry, so it was okay. These things adults did were disgusting. But because it was Garry, they weren't all that bad.

"Let's…um…honey," Garry stuttered, holding up a hand. "Y-you don't have to—"

She claimed another kiss. He was holding his breath now as she ventured with her tongue once more, pushing between his lips, mimicking how he'd done it.

Not bad at all. It was sweet, even. Unlike the sour-tinged lemon candy once upon a gallery, unlike the rich chocolate macaron after a certain reunion. There was no real way to describe the flavor that rolled across her senses, but if she had to give it a name, it would be _his._ Garry's taste.

"You won't leave me, right?" she muttered close to his lips, searching his smouldering blue eyes for reassurance.

He put his forehead to hers. "I won't, Ib."

Garry was such a bad liar.

But because she loved him, she was more than willing to be deceived.

Ib snuggled up against him, heard her own noisy heart beating out of rhythm with his, and felt his large hand rub gentle circles into her back. Closing her eyes, she immersed herself in the comfort of his scent.

* * *

Ib had returned home two hours ago, but the taste of her lips still lingered on his with nagging intensity. The events that had transpired earlier that evening had been stuck on replay in his head, some moments in greater details than others, but they all ultimately left him in both wonderment and fear.

But as lost and confused as he was, there was still one thing that must be done.

So, as Garry lay on his bed listening to the first drone of dial tone in his phone, he had never felt less eager for the other side to pick up.

"Garry, hey…" Scarlet answered on the second ring, much to Garry's chagrin, and the way her voice sounded—the girl was crying. He silently cursed the part of him that still cared for her. It wasn't so much that he didn't want to care for her, just that that kind of sentiments was making this so much harder.

He emitted a long sigh before he began, "Look, Scarl…"

"Hey, Gar, I know we just argued and all but," she sniffed, her voice quiet, "can I come over? Is Ib gone?"

He wiped his face and shook his head. "No, no, Scarl, I…" he hesitated.

"Later is fine, too."

"No, look. Let's stop this."

There was silence on the other side, and not even the sound of breathing could be heard.

"Scarl, you there?"

"Wha-What do you mean?"

"I mean we should stop this thing between us. We are never going to work."

"Don't. Don't. You can't do this." Her tone turned desperate, and Garry was abundantly glad he wasn't there to witness whatever state she was in. This didn't need to get any more complicated. "If this is about the little girl, I can explain. I'll tell you so—"

"Do you love him?" His interruption brought her to silence again. He listened to her uneven breathing, taking in a breath of his own before continuing. "I love Ib, Scarlet, and we can't keep doing this." He stared at the ceiling, feeling the weight in his chest intensify. It wasn't like Scarlet didn't know, but admitting this little fact out loud for another person to hear was an entirely new step. "It's not doing either of us any favor, and I'm tired of telling myself otherwise. Aren't you?"

"No!—No," she brought her voice back down to a hiss, as though to keep someone else from overhearing. "We are not doing this over the phone."

"Look, we've been doing this for two years. Don't you think it's about time we stop deluding ourselves that things are going be any different? I'm not going to stop loving Ib…and you still call his name in your sleep, you know."

There was a clack on the other side – a door being closed. A sob. And another.

"I hate him, Garry," she cried, "I hate that I love him so much."

Garry closed his eyes, heart becoming frantic. She was so much like him that it was like hearing himself talk. And he sounded miserable. "Work it out with him, or move on, hon. I'm not the answer to your problem, and…" he paused, wiping his face again, "Just…Thanks for everything. I'm sorry I can't be a better friend."

She didn't reply for a while, and he was about to hang up when she said, "You're a jerk, Garbear." Her voice was chiding, but soft.

"I know."

"But I love you, anyway—Goodbye, then." And the line went dead before he could respond.

"Back at you, hon," he mumbled into the phone, listless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm, I'm still not satisfied, but if I hold on to this chapter any longer I'll never release it.
> 
> So, I'm putting Glass of Time on semi-hiatus as some of you might have already sensed it. Well, semi, wtf does semi mean? It means I'll still be working on it, albeit at a much slower rate. Nothing new, but you all deserve a heads up (or down).
> 
> Several reasons, really. School's a bitch. New found passion in the FF7 fandom(maybe check my new story - Devil's Hubris out if you're a fan?). And this story is getting to a point where I have to be careful with how I develop it.
> 
> Thank you for all your feedback, favs, follows and general support. You guys and gals are beautiful people and I'll see you in the next chapter (not counting the extra chapter).
> 
> Feel free to drop by my blog tragheitnoikikata to say hello during my absence.


	37. Cowardice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If he was afraid then damn it...she was allowed to be afraid, too.

The house was dark when Scarlet entered through the door, and quiet enough that she felt the need to tiptoe her way around. So she did. Closing the door, she felt her way into the dimly lit living room, where her nose picked up the bitter scent of smoke and her ears tuned in to a soft sound of snoring.

It was rare that she could catch him in such a mundane activity, and the fact that he was sleeping soothed the knot of dread in her stomach. They didn't have to talk. Not yet.

She walked around the couch to find his gaunt frame nestled in its lap, unkempt hair in his face, clothes disheveled and an open notebook in his arms, some worn pages crumpled by the hug. Work kept him up for days, and only work could force rest onto him. It was so typical of him to let work rule his life.

He hadn't even taken his glasses off.

Scarlet knelt down next to his head and slid them from his face with practiced stealth. She had done this many times over the years living with him. Nicholas never looked after himself. It was a wonder how he ever made it through the days before she came around.

She folded the glasses up and placed them on top of the jagged stack of books he'd left next to the full ashtray. Then she arranged the book stack into a neat column, knowing he'd be cursing a string if he roused and knocked them over in his groggy shamble.

Turning back to him, Scarlet let a small smile onto her lips as she brushed the knotted dark locks from his face. He was at least cleanly shaven today. She often asked herself what she saw in him. He was a slop, insensitive and apathetic. He wasn't particularly handsome, and was out of shape enough that she wouldn't trust him with a grocery bag. And yet everything about him she found dear.

He was scowling in his sleep, the dark circles under his eyes contrasting his pasty skin. She wouldn't be surprised if he was running on coffee and cigarettes alone the past few days she hadn't dropped by. He was a mess without her. Perhaps that was why…

Scarlet traced the bone of his cheek, lost in the shadows shading his face.

She felt entitled…

To him.

His grunt startled her and she yanked back her hand as if he'd burnt her. The few seconds that he stirred, she held her breath in prayer, her pulse thrumming her ears, and was relieved when he didn't wake.

This was stupid. She shook her head and clambered to her feet to leave.

"Not gonna even say bye?" His gruff voice froze her at the threshold, but she willed her heart to shush.

"You were sleeping."

She turned back to find him getting up to stretch.

"My bad." Nicholas ran a hand through his hair, yawning, and rounded the couch to tower over her. Too close. She could smell his breath fanning down at her, like smoke, sweet pungent heaven. Her mind was shutting down, her eyelids threatened to close and it was only by sheer will that they remained open to challenge his languid gaze. Damn him! He knew too well how much he affected her. And damn her. She was too stubborn to back away.

"So where do you wanna go for dinner?" He muttered in his lazy voice, the drawl in it lulling her mind further into reverie before she caught herself.

"Excuse me?" Did she sound pissed? She hoped she did. " _You_ called me here to talk."

His brow quirked a confused look for a moment before he replied, "No, I didn't."

"Yes you did! No, no, I'm staying right here." She shoved away the hand that he placed behind her hip to guide her back inside. "You said it was important."

"This _is_ important. Or is spending time with your dad not important to you anymore? That's cold, you brat." There was a smirk on his face as he crossed his arms and leant against the doorway. The kind of teasing smirk that told her he wasn't taking this seriously.

Her jaw set into a defiant clench, she curled her hands into fists by her sides. "Don't act like nothing happened between us!"

Nicholas frowned; though Scarlet wanted to tell herself he was merely squinting without his glasses. The look of anger he directed at her hurt, but at least she'd wiped him clean of mirth for the night.

" _Nothing_ happened between us," he all but grated the words out and turned away, but she stood in his track.

"Something did and you're just too damn cowardly to accept it!"

He audibly growled, and she could see the cogwheels turning in his head, no doubt thinking of a way out. And he'd hurt her if he must.

"Right in this house. Right on this floor! We—"

"Well too bloody bad, I don't remember shite to save my life. Sure you didn't just delude yourself as you rode some other poor, unfortunate bloke?"

There it was. She felt the tears beginning to form a glaze over her vision, and she cursed herself for letting him wound her so easily. It hurt. It hurt so much that he denied that night, denied her every chance he got. That he scorned her for sleeping with Garry even when he knew she only did it because she found them similar. And they weren't even all that similar! She was just that desperate.

Nicholas saw whatever face she was making, and had the decency to look guilty, his expression softening. "Scarlet, I'm bored of this childish squabble. Let's just put all of this behind us."

The nerve of this man! "Childish? Childish!? Says the grown man who can't even admit he loves me."

"Well, that's mighty presumptuous of you," he snorted with toxic humor, "but I suppose as daughter—"

"No, no! Don't you dare pull that paternal bullshite, you coward!"

Her head was spinning from all the rushing blood. They were both running on the spur of the moment. It was only a matter of time before one of them said something that couldn't be taken back, and she had a terrible feeling that she would come out of this more crippled than before. Damn him for calling her over. Damn her for thinking he'd finally own up to it.

She jabbed him on the chest and found a smidge of satisfaction when he winced from it. "You never saw me as your daughter."

"Oh, boo-freaking-hoo, like you ever wanted me to be your father!" Nicholas was shouting now, hand waving around in an angry fit. He rarely ever shouted. He was losing his temper with her. "Acting like a bloody martyr. If you're so courageous, I'd like to see you renounce the family name. Yeah, go get another family to adopt you, then come back and I'll indulge your little crush as much as you like. Until then – no, do not interrupt me – Until then, you and I are child and parent. You'd do well to banish those silly delusions and stop getting on my nerves. You fancy yourself the special little snowflake in my life, don't you? Well, news flash my dear, you're only still around because your petty antics weren't worth my time, and oh are you making it increasingly difficult to see them that way. I am _not_ a patient man, love. Test me any further and I _will_ disown you myself!"

Her heart quivered violently at the threat, and she knew he'd honor his words to save his own hide if shoved hard enough. He won. Scarlet was exhausted, her tears spilling. He knew why she didn't dare leave the family. If he was scared, then damn it she was allowed to be afraid, too. What if things between them didn't work out? What if he became bored of her, like he became bored of so many other things? What then? They would no longer be a family, nothing to tie them together.

She'd lose him forever.

Scarlet let her shoulders slump as she wiped her cheeks and brushed past him. "Go wherever you want for dinner. I'm not coming."

"You still don't think you did anything wrong, do you?"

His words halted her steps in the corridor, but she didn't turn around. Scarlet tried to push down the stone in her throat as she wracked her brain for a comeback, but found that she no longer cared about being right. If she admitted to being wrong, would he at least talk about it with her?

"Suit yourself. Come back when you've calmed down. I still want that dinner."

Footsteps walked away from her, and she knew they were heading back to his study. The notion infuriated her. He grew bored of everything but his work.

"Oh and, stop seeing that Garret boy."

Her heart jumped at that. This wasn't the first time Garry's name came up in their conversation, but Nicholas had never been the one to start the topic. It was always her, to rub the relationship in his face and perhaps elicit some form of jealousy. It never worked though, because she was just _deluding_ herself after all.

Scarlet turned around to find him halfway up the stairs, his face obscured to her by the darkness. "Are you telling me that as a father?" _Or are you jealous after all?_ She swallowed those last words, chiding herself for even forming them in her head.

"…I'm talking as a person who knows he's trouble."

She was finally left alone, and her tears bled anew as she hung her head. "I hate you." A whispered lie.

Her phone started ringing then. It was Garry.

Maybe he could turn that lie into truth.

 


	38. Asylum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Every time she smiles at me, I feel...absolved."

The floor was marble of a beige, warm hue. It matched the natural stone walls that wrapped the room up into a small, cosy lounge-place. A fat, cushy couch that housed more throw pillows than Garry believed was excusable lay sprawled in the middle, facing an armchair across the dainty coffee table. There were rustic paintings hung around the room that added to the charming ambiance intended for relaxation, and the large, wood-framed windows invited in the cheery morning sun.

Anyone else would probably have loved this apartment that belonged to his benefactor's secretary, Ms. Voltfied.

With that said, Garry was sure it was clear why he wasn't amongst the people who enjoyed being inside the room. He dropped his backpack next to the couch and parted the pillows for a place to sit, making himself comfortable in a mountain of spilling cushions.

Nicholas – or Dr. Voltfied was late.

Just as he thought so, the door behind him swung open and in came said doctor, striding around the couch to face him. Nicholas looked worse for wear as per usual, with messy hair and dark bags under his eyes. "Evening, la'," he said with a jerk of his chin, not meeting Garry's gaze.

Garry frowned but greeted back anyway. "Morning." He was half-convinced Nicholas purposely messed with him from time to time, but considering that Nicholas's expressions ranged from scowling disgruntlement to blank lethargy, perhaps not.

The smell of coffee followed the older man as he set down a thermal bottle on the table. Garry watched Nicholas make a line to the filing cabinets at the corner of the room and jiggled a key to retrieve a thick folder bounded with a rubber band.

As a fashion design major, it annoyed Garry to no end that Nicholas always showed up in some slovenly attire. It wasn't hard to imagine what the man had on right now had been thrown together by picking randomly from a monochrome wardrobe. On more than one occasion, Garry had had to bite back the urge to offer Nicholas a makeover.

It was over two months ago that Garry had begun this routine of meeting Nicholas twice a week – as per Mr. Garland's order. Tuesdays and Thursdays, timing flexible. The meetings were to be held in Ms. Voltfied's apartment inside a building owned by the Garland corporation for 'security reasons,' and Garry was to, under no circumstances, discuss them with anyone.

Of course, he would never dare, because the reason for these meetings…

"A'ight, let's begin." Nicholas settled into the armchair and crossed his legs, pen in hand and white folder splayed on his lap. "You know the drill. Absolute confidence, no judgment, blah blah blah. Now." Bloodshot eyes that had been glazed over moments before turned sharp and alert. "How are you and Ms. Ib Lowell this week?"

It was routine. The same opening question every session. Still, Garry's heartrate climbed as he answered, "Fine."

"Care to elaborate on that?"

'No' wasn't an option, as Garry had learnt very early on. He sank deeper into the pillows, to hide or to seek stability he wasn't sure, and started picking at the hem of his jacket. "I'm helping a professor with his collection, and it's been taking up a lot of my time. As for Ib, she's…not looking forward to the new semester starting."

Dr. Voltfied waited for him to continue. When he didn't, the man said, "Not quite what I was looking for, but go on. Why is she not thrilled, do you think?"

Garry shrugged. "You know the way kids are."

"You've made it rather clear you don't view her as one."

"…I don't."

"So?"

Garry fell silent. He knew the good doctor was latching onto this topic because Garry had let his concern slip. The problem here was how much he should be telling the man because, despite the 'absolute confidence' clause, Mr. Garland was still going to be made privy to everything that Dr. Voltfied deemed worth reporting.

Then again, Mr. Garland would probably find out sooner or later anyway, and if Garry was going to be seeing a psychiatrist, might as well vent.

He let go of a sigh. "Because it means less free time." Fewer chances to be together.

Dr. Voltfied nodded. "Less time to meet. You're also concerned about this, but I sense not for the same reasons?"

God, he hated being seen through. Garry hunched over and propped his elbows on his knees, wiping his face with a groan. "She's been…around…a lot."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"…Happy." His heart thumped steadily. He balled up a sweaty hand inside his hair. "But also nauseous."

_"_ _Garry," she called. One small hand cupped his jaw while the other brushed his hair, thumb caressing his cheek bone and fingertips touching his ear, all too tenderly. He was compelled to smile with her._

"Every time she smiles at me, I feel…absolved—but I shouldn't. I'm not. Then I'm left alone, and it just feels completely wrong. Some days, I can't shake off the thought that she's putting up a front to put _me_ at ease."

_How she could still stand to be so close to Garry was beyond him. But in the haze of elation he decided it suited him just fine and pulled her closer to his chest, let her hear his heart's unveiled confession. She still felt too far away._

"There isn't a minute we spend together that she doesn't look contented. And…" He snapped his mouth shut.

"And?"

Garry kept his gaze down and made no move to adjust his position, pulse strumming in his ears. 'And it was sickening that he had the gall to feel dissatisfied'—but he couldn't tell Dr. Voltfied that. His benefactor would no doubt hear about it.

_"_ _Garret, my boy." Mr. Garland had flopped down next to Garry right on this very couch and draped a friendly arm around Garry's shoulder. "What happened that night cannot happen again. Have I made myself clear?" The same easy-going smile. Firm, painful grip on his shoulder._

He paled at the memory. He didn't know how much Mr. Garland already knew, or how much the man could find out. But if he gave the man any reason to believe 'that night' might happen again, he knew he would be separated from Ib immediately. "And…I still struggle to reconcile why— _how_ she's still by my side," he said.

The doctor made a noise of acknowledgment and clicked his pen to scribble something onto the files. "It's not unusual to find cases like yours, Garret."

Garry scoffed, dropping his arms between his legs. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? That I'm just one of many pedophiles in this world?"

A click of the pen. "First of all, no, I'm just telling you a fact." Dr. Voltfield sat back in his seat. "Second of all, we've talked about labelling. You're not a pedophile, neither are you a hebephile, so please refrain from calling yourself any of those words. It's detrimental to these sessions, and also does no one any good in general."

"Third of all, you misunderstand. Pedophiles are plenty, yes. However, I meant there are many cases where the…survivor…"

_"_ _Garry?" Soft locks of hair fell down to his face like spools of silk._

The doctor seemed wary, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose to hide inquisitive eyes. Garry saw it anyway. The man was gauging Garry's expression, and Garry did his best to keep a blank face despite the ugly pinch inside his guts. "…grows attached to the inflictor."

_"_ _Did you have a nightmare, Garry?" She knelt over him on the bed._

"Sympathize with the latter."

_In the bleary darkness, he saw worried red eyes. A hand ran over his sweaty forehead._

"Even protect the latter, come hardship."

_Still_ _out of breath, he searched the slender length of her arm, fingers crossing her shoulder to reach her back, pull her down to him. Let her scent flood his senses. Erase his fears. Ascertain reality's hold. "It's not real," she said into his ear, voice so quiet even in the dead of night. "You told me before, remember?" Her arms slipped behind his neck for a reassuring embrace. "It'll be okay, Garry."_

"You might have heard of it. Stockholm syndrome."

Breathless laugh. "Isn't that reserved for hostage situations?"

The doctor watched Garry for a moment, then tilted his head to the side. "A more appropriate generalisation would be 'situations where neither fight nor flight is possible.'"

Garry scowled. His heart was too fucking loud. "I am not restraining her."

"You don't have to. It's all about perception, la'. You know how children won't turn on abusive parents? How people won't leave abusive spouses to keep up a good public image? In the same way, the little girl has found it impossible to leave you, so she has to find another way to…cope with your presence. It seems to be appeasement for her. Quite a common defence mechanism."

His head was spinning, and his mouth dry. He just stared back at the doctor as the meaning of the man's words slowly sank in.

"Still with me there, la'?"

He shook himself awake. " _Coping?_ She has to _cope_ with my existence?"

Dr. Voltfied looked to be assessing something before he began, "Yes, but—"

Garry shot to his feet and stormed for the door. "Garret!" He ignored the man and grabbed the doorknob—and stopped. _Where_ was he thinking of going? His head was full of her. Her kind eyes. Heart-warming smile. Did he want to go to her? To the girl who was secretly terrified of him? For what? To what end?

His heart and thoughts were racing. He was furious. At what or at who, he wasn't sure. He just felt that this wasn't right.

Stockholm Syndrome? A common occurrence? What?

**_Thought you were special, didn't you?_ **

Garry shook his head and wiped his face. To think it was so common. To think it had a name.

That wasn't right. That wasn't right at all. Their situation was so much more complicated than that, and summing it all up into two words would be injustice. Simply wrong.

He loved her more than words could describe, and she'd inexplicably chosen to stay with him; there was still no explanation to the gallery that had tied their lives together.

That was how things were supposed to be. Unexplainable. Everything about them was beyond words, beyond reasons.

Wasn't it?

**_Good grief, you're pathetic._ **

**_She's hurting by your side, you selfish prick._ **

He yanked his hand away from the doorknob as though stung.

What the hell was he doing, trying to get to her? He'd always knew it, hadn't he? Had suspected that her intimacy with him wasn't normal. But he'd ignored all doubts and instincts to keep being by her side, deluded himself into thinking their situation was special to justify holding her.

Even though he had no right to. Not anymore. Never did.

Of course, they'd survived that horrible gallery, and no one else would ever understand. It'd made sense at first to be there for her. But then their bonds deepened. His feelings grew.

At which point had staying stopped being for her sake?

Garry wanted to throw up. He doubled down and started to dry heave. His shoulder was seized; he spun around, grabbed the perpetrator by the worn collar and slammed him against the wall.

Dr. Voltfied's head made an audible collision with the hard surface, and the man grunted. "Bloody—"

"Why is she still coming to me?"

The doctor scowled, rubbing the back of his head. "Like I said—"

Garry tightened his grip. "Why…am I still letting her come to me?" His voice grew weak as he searched the doctor's cold eyes for some kind of answer. But in reality, he didn't need it. He already knew: he was a fucking monster.

Dr. Voltfied didn't say anything, and after seconds that felt like hours, Garry let go. The doctor sighed and proceeded to fixed his clothes. "Sit down, Garret. And calm yourself." He went back to his seat and sat down. A click. Some scribbling. "She's not forcing herself to be with you if it's as you've been telling me."

"…What do you mean?"

"Sit down, la'." The doctor kept his gaze on the file, writing. When he was done, there was another click before the man looked up at Garry, quirking an expectant eyebrow.

Garry stared back; seconds passed, marked off by the hasty heaves of his breathing. Slowly, he dragged himself back to the couch and curled up amongst the pillows, cradling his head. "She's not forcing herself to be with me?" The words came out more like a whisper, for his own ears only. It was despicable how he was already trying to make himself feel better. He was a selfish, cowardly little shit.

"You said your meetings were always decided by her?"

_As he felt her arms around his waist, he stopped himself from telling her to have some moderation in visiting him._

The sound of the papers being turned disrupted his thoughts. "She clings to you?"

_"_ _What are you reading, Garry?" Her chin rested into the crook of his neck and her weight pressed against his back as he bent over his professor's article._

"She seems comfortable around you?"

_He tangled his fingers into her hair, half caressing, half brushing them away from her face. Her soundly sleeping face as she used his thigh as a pillow. So precious. So trusting._

"Well, there you have it."

"Doesn't mean she's fine," he said through clenched teeth.

"She's still a child, la'. I assure you, you'd know if she isn't fine. Coping is a fairly subconscious process. The literature makes a big deal about how the syndrome is abnormal, but more often than not, people who have it also have peace of mind. And sometimes that's the best anyone can ask for."

"Bullshit." But still, he felt better. Wasn't he just a stellar example of a decent human being?

"If you're thinking about 'snapping her out of it,' consider that it'll make more of a mess rather than solve anything."

Garry straightened himself and ran both hands through his hair. "Of course _you_ would say that. You work for Mr. Garland." The good doctor's words were bias at best considering Mr. Garland was hell-bent on keeping this under wraps. Providing Garry a psychiatrist wasn't so much to make him feel better but to keep him _stable._ So that he wouldn't go breaking down before he finished his degree.

"I'll say it regardless of circumstances. You wouldn't think to push people who'd repressed their memories to remember, would you? The same applies here."

He gave a bitter laugh. "If it ain't broke, don't fix it?"

Dr. Voltfied held Garry's gaze for a stretch of silence before shaking his head. "No, Garret." The man took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose before dark eyes returned to Garry. " _This?"_ He tapped the white folder on his lap with the tip of his glasses. "There's no 'fixing,' no 'making it right.' Not everything can be solved by straightening things out, so get that idealistic notion out of your head. All you can do now is minimize the damage you're going to cause down the road."

* * *

When Garry had gotten the chance to calm down after the session and think back on it, that was probably not something a psychiatrist should've said to his patient. Perhaps that had been scorn. Or maybe an advice, rolled up in cynicism.

He wasn't sure if realizing that changed anything, as he'd decided he couldn't leave things like this. He was going to talk to her, not so much to 'snap her out of anything,' but to let her know, at the very least, she had the option of leaving him. Always had and always would.

And just maybe…if she decided to leave, then he wouldn't have to leave her.

Garry turned to the next page of the novel and shifted for a more comfortable position against the mass of pillow and comforter he had squeezed between himself and the headboard. The hum of the heater perpetuated in the silence of his apartment. It was chilly tonight despite still being early August.

Having to squint to read under the light of night lamp, he wondered if it was his eyes going bad, or he needed to return the lamp and get one that was just a little brighter.

"Garry." He looked up to see Ib walking past the threshold, tugging at her oversized clothes. She'd pulled on one of his T-shirts after showering, said she liked the way it smelled; he hadn't protested. "There's water in the bowl. But you left the eggs out so I put them back into the fridge," she said as she climbed onto the bed.

"Thanks, sweetie. You'll definitely like lunch tomorrow." She shimmied under his arms to settle against him.

"There's no egg," she said, as if that fact forecasted her enjoyment of the meal. Ib hid her pout behind small arms that folded over his chest.

He chuckled at her sullen look and dog-eared the page he was reading before setting the book down on the nightstand. "Gotta try new things, Ib. You might like it." He stroked the back of her head. "You ended up liking macarons, didn't you?"

"That's not the same."

"Come on," he coaxed and lifted her chin to place a kiss on her temple. "One bite. After that, if you really don't like the beans, I'll make your favourite omelette. Deal?" Garry didn't care that he was spoiling her. He simply wanted to please her however he could with what little time they still have together. Mr. Garland had already decided to move him away from her by the end of the year. He'd had time to process it, and now he was just glad her parents kept having to leave her alone in the house for some business gathering.

Ib appeared reluctant still, and he grinned. "Just remember I'll be really, really hurt if you don't like the food even though I've put so much of my love in it."

She seemed to think about it as she leant her face into his hand. Her eyes never left his. Ah, that captivating red. She moved on top of him, slow and careful, climbed his chest and rose to his eye level. Their noses touched and their lips met.

She pulled back, smiled. "I'll kiss it bett—" was all she managed before he pulled her in for another. His heart almost broke from all the happiness swelling inside him when she deepened the kiss. Eyes slid shut. Slim waist beneath his palm. Pleasant weight on his groin. Her hot, stifled moans were making him heady as he rolled over and pinned her under him.

They parted for breath and he trailed his mouth down her neck. Ducked lower to kiss the hollow of her chest, her stomach—brought her knee up to kiss it, too.

"Garry."

He froze, heart rampant and skin feverishly hot. Hers, too. He swallowed. "Sorry." He forced himself to move back up to gather her tiny form into his arms. "Sorry." He didn't dare to look at her yet and instead burrowed into her shoulder, feeling that sliver of redemption when she hugged him back, just as wordless.

.

.

"I love you, Ib," he said after a while, tracing the rim of her ear with a distracted thumb. She was using his lap as a pillow again, fiddling with the last button of his shirt.

"I love you, too, Garry." It hurt so much to hear her say that.

"I wish we could stay like this." He brushed her hair back and managed a small smile.

Red eyes glanced up at him. "Can't we?"

"I don't know. So I wish." He let his gaze drift so that he didn't have to face hers.

Ib got up. "We can."

"I hope so, honey." He patted her head and started rearranging the bed. "Let's sleep. Wouldn't wanna skip breakfast and jump straight to lunch tomorrow now, would we?"

"I want omelette for breakfast."

"Mm, we'll see."

With the lamp turned off, Garry joined her under the comforter and let her curl up in his arms. He kissed the top of her head, felt her relax against him, and finally closed his eyes.

Tomorrow. He'd talk with her tomorrow. And then, they would see.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Rant: Look who's bloody back (and will be gone shortly). Thank y'all for being so patient, and especially thanks to those who'd bothered to drop a review. I know I'm terrible at replying (that is, I didn't do it at all) but reading your feedback really helped motivate me.
> 
> Welp, life a-calling.
> 
> Have a nice day. And see you on the next blue moon~


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